The Elenmir
by Maethorelen
Summary: Long before the Fellowship of the Ring was formed, Elrond held a council. The Elenmir, the Order of Legend, was formed and sent to another realm to study the texts containing knowledge of all events in Arda. And now their descendants return, faced with greater challenges than they had ever known. "They thought they knew what the future held. They were wrong."
1. The Order of Legend

**Hey everyone! Maethorelen here!**

**To everyone who has been reading _Dig Down Deeper_: yes, I am still writing it. But this stupid plot bunny won't leave me alone!**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OC's.**

The Elenmîr

Chapter 1: The Order of Legend

_The world is changing. Darkness is rising._

Elrond stood up from his chair upon hearing the Lady Galadriel's voice. _I know_, he replied. _I can feel it as well._

_A choice is upon you_, Galadriel stated. _To continue believeing in the strength of all the free peoples of Middle-Earth, or trust only in the Elves to survive the coming shadow. _

_What would you advise me to do?_ asked Elrond.

_Call upon the free kingdoms of Elves and Men. We are not alone in this universe. There is another realm, and it is there that our hope still lives._

Elrond stood in silence, contemplating his choices. "My lord?" a voice called.

The Elf lord whipped around to see Erynion, one of his trusted advisors, standing in the doorway. "Send out messengers to Mirkwood, Gondor, Rohan, and the Dúnedain," he ordered. "I will be holding a council to determine who shall undertake a quest to prepare Middle-Earth for the dark times ahead."

Erynion nodded his head. "Yes, milord."

_I have made my decision_, Elrond thought.

Galadriel smiled. _You have chosen wisely._

~o*o*o*o~

A few weeks later, delegations began arriving in Rivendell. First came the delegation of Lothlórien, led by the beautiful Lady Galadriel upon a pure white palfrey. The White Lady immediately spoke with Lord Elrond about the council. A few days later, the grey company of the Dúnedain rode in. Leading them was a dark-haired man with a silver brooch shaped like a hawk.

"_Mae govannen_, Lord Elrond," he greeted.

"_Mae govannan_," Elrond replied, looking quizzically at the man. "You are not Aragost," he stated.

The man laughed. "Nay, I am Eradan, son of Eldacar. I come in the Chieftain Aragost's stead."

Elrond nodded. "I understand."

Next came the escort of Gondor, led by the Captain Herion. "Lord Elrond," he stated, removing his helmet to reveal his reddish-brown locks.

"Greetings, Captain Herion," Elrond responded. "I assume you are coming in the stead of the Steward Cirion."

"Aye," Herion nodded.

Thranduil and the company of Mirkwood rode in less than a day later. They were soon followed by the company of Rohan, thundering in of dozens of strong horses. "Is Eorl among your numbers?" Thranduil asked. "For I much desire to speak to him."

A young blonde man shook his head. "Nay," he replied. "King Eorl had to attend to other matters and sent me in his stead."

"And who may you be?" the blonde elf next to the Elvenking questioned.

The man glared at him before replying. "I am Fastred, son of Fengel. And now that I have given you my name, I ask for yours in return."

"I am Feredir, loyal advisor of King Thranduil," the elf retorted boastfully.

Thranduil watched the exchange amusedly. Suddenly, a deep horn blast sounded in the distance. "Come, it is time for the council," Thranduil instructed, walking towards the council terrace. Feredir followed, giving Fastred a fierce glare before he left.

Elrond and Galadriel stood at the front of a wide semi-circle of chairs. Feredir took his seat beside Thranduil as Elrond began. "Elves and Men of distant lands, I have summoned you here to discuss a very important matter."

"Darkness had yet again begun to rise in Arda," Galadriel stated. "The Last Alliance of Elves and Men must stand once again, for this shadow may be upon us sooner than you may believe." Murmurs erupted among the council members. _Another shadow?_ Herion thought. He remembered reading the tales of Sauron and the One Ring. Isildur had cut the Ring from the Dark Lord's finger. _Surely that wouldn't happen again? _Galadriel noticed the many worried expressions in the council. "Do not fear, for hope still lives, but not in this realm." All of the council members stared at her in confusion.

"Our world, Middle-Earth, is not the only realm in existence," Elrond explained. "Another exists, and it is there our hope lies. For within that realm, there is a collection of books that contain a vast knowledge of the events in Middle-Earth: events in the past, the present, and perhaps the future."

The council once again began to mutter amongst themselves. "Another realm?" Eradan breathed.

"It cannot be possible," Fastred replied.

Galadriel and Elrond exchanged glances, knowing that many would doubt their statements. Elrond nodded to Galadriel, who took out rather large black box with two mesh circles on the sides. The Lady placed it on the plinth in the middle of the terrace and pressed a button. Immediately, the music of strings and horns sounded, causing everyone to fall silent and search for the source of the music.

After a few moments, Galadriel stepped forward and pressed another button, stopping the music. "This is a piece of technology that only exists in the other realm," she stated. "Is this proof enough for you?" The council members shifted sheepishly in there seats. Galadriel took that to mean "yes."

Elrond cleared his throat. "These texts must be studied and passed on to future generations," he continued. "Some of you must travel to this other realm and do this."

"Be warned, the realm that we speak of is a world of Men," Galadriel stated gravely. "If you choose to travel there, your appearance and lifespan will be altered to match those who live there."

All was silent for a moment. Suddenly, Eradan stood up. "I will go."

"As will I," added Herion, standing beside Eradan.

Fastred was the next to stand. "I wish to go as well."

"As do I," Feredir chimed in, joining the men.

"And I will join you." Elrond whipped around in shock to see Erynion standing with Eradan, Herion, Fastred, and Feredir.

Elrond nodded his head. "Very well."

Galadriel smiled. "You five have valiant hearts. I wish to bestow upon each of you a gift." Slowly she approached Eradan. "To you I give the Forodgîl, the Star of the North." She handed him a necklace with an amethyst pendant shaped like a six-pointed star. Next, she turned towards Herion. "To you I give the Nimornegîl, the Star of the White Tree." The captain received a necklace similar to Eradan's, but made of pearl. Fastred was also given a star necklace, but the pendant was made of a vivid orange stone. "I give you the Anorgîl, the Star of the Sun." Galadriel came to Feredir next. "To you I give the Lasgîl, the Star of the Leaf." Feredir's necklace was carved of bright emerald. Finally, the White Lady reached Erynion. "To you I give the Duingîl, the Star of the River." Galadriel also gave him a star necklace. The pendant was made of a deep sapphire. Erynion stared at it in wonder before placing it around his neck like the others had done previously. Galadriel stepped back to gaze at the five travelers. "These are the Elenmîr, the Star Jewels, enchanted with Elven magic. Keep them close, and pass them on to your descendants along with the knowledge you gain, for these necklaces with one day call its bearer back to Middle-Earth when this realm approaches its darkest hour."

Elrond bowed his head. "Farewell," he stated. "Do not forget that task that has been given unto you."

The five travelers nodded in understanding, then silently said goodbye to their companions. Galadriel stepped forward. "Farewell, Elenmîr, the Order of Legend." She moved her hands, and a bright white light began to surround the Elenmîr. "Goodbye and good luck."

The light enveloped the five travelers, growing brighter and brighter, and then, with a great flash, they were gone.

~o*o*o*o~

The darkness that Galadriel and Elrond had felt did not come to pass for many lifetimes of men. The Elenmîr passed on into tales and myths, becoming a sort of fairytale for the young children of Gondor and Rohan. However, the Elenmîr still lived, performing the task appointed to them in the new realm they called…America.

**Please review!**


	2. So It Begins

**Okay, I may have left out some rather important information in the summary and the first chapter.**

**This story will have OC pairings: Aragorn/OC, Arwen/OC, Faramir/OC, Ėowyn/OC, and Legolas/OC. Please don't beat me up for it. You've been fairly warned.**

**This also takes place a year or so before Frodo embarks on his quest.**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

**_Update 3/17/12: I have actually decided that this will NOT have any pairings. Just good friends. So, yeah, enjoy!_  
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Chapter 2: So It Begins

"Downsides went up - hey!

Outsides went wide.

As the fiddle

Played a twiddle

And the Moon slept 'til Sterrenday!"

Hope Adkins hummed merrily on her way home from school. It was an old folk song that her mother taught her. She didn't really know the meaning of the lyrics, especially the word "Sterrenday", but she liked the tune. It was catchy.

Finally, after quite a few minutes, Hope arrived at her house. It was a small, one-story house, built right next to the woods. A tall, dark-haired woman was sitting on the lawn, reading. "Hi Hope!" she called.

"Hey Mom!" Hope replied before marching into the house. She immediately went into her room. It was relatively small and unadorned, the only decorations being a silver hawk near the window. A bookcase sat beside her bed, filled with books all by J.R.R. Tolkien: _The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Children of Húrin,_ and the like. Hope threw her backpack on her bed and snatched her hiking stick from the corner. "I'm going for a walk!" she shouted, heading for the back door.

"You have everything?" her mom shouted in reply.

Hope grabbed her canteen and belted her pack around her waist. "Yep!"

"What about your necklace?"

Hope rolled her eyes. "You know I don't go anywhere without it!"

Her mom sighed. "I know, I was just checking. You know you're great-"

"-great-grandfather had it, yes I know. Now may I please go?"

"Alright. Stay safe."

"I will!" Hope called as she exited through the back door. She swiftly jumped the fence and began to stroll through the woods. The forest was somewhat of a second home for her. It just felt so _right_ to wander through the trees. Soon, Hope began to sing quietly to herself.

"Upsides went west – hey!

Broadsides went boom.

With a twiddle on the fiddle

In the middle by the griddle

And the Moon slept 'til Sterrenday!"

Suddenly, the woods around her began to spin. She abruptly stopped singing. "What in the world?" she muttered, shaking her head in the hopes it was just an illusion. That's when she noticed that the purple star pendant she always wore was beginning to glow. The pendant shone brighter and brighter until it seemed warm in Hope's hand. The forest continued to whirl around her, becoming a blur of greens and browns. Hope tried to run, but her feet seemed to be rooted to the ground. There was a bright white flash of light, and then darkness.

~o*o*o*o~

Aragorn quickly rode through the forest, eager to meet with his good friend and kinsman Halbarad. Suddenly, a bright white light flashed through the trees. The Ranger shielded his eyes, trying to stay atop Roheryn as he reared in surprise. Once the light had faded, Aragorn dismounted and led his horse to where he thought the source of the light was located, curious to see what had caused it. Eventually, he reached a clearing. A young girl lay there alone, apparently unconscious. The maiden wore very peculiar clothing: dark blue pants made of some inflexible material and a plain purple shirt with very short sleeves. Beside her lay a walking stick. Aragorn immediately rushed to her side. She didn't seem to have any injuries of any kind. As he gently brushed her dark hair off her chest, the Ranger noticed the strange pendant around her neck. It was a six-pointed star carved out of the deepest amethyst. Aragorn's eyes widened. "It cannot be true," he breathed, examining the necklace more closely. He had only heard about a pendant like this once before, in the legend of the Elenmîr. _But that's just a tale,_ he thought.

With a great thundering of hooves, a horse crashed into the clearing. "Aragorn, where were you?" asked the grey-cloaked man from atop the steed.

"My apologies, Halbarad," Aragorn stated, looking up. "But I seem to have run across a more pressing matter." He gestured to the unconscious young girl on the forest floor. "Look." Gently, Aragorn picked up the pendant, careful so that the necklace wouldn't slip off.

Halbarad gasped. "But, that is only in legend!"

Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know." He carefully lifted the young lady onto Roheryn, placing her stick next to her. "I must see Lord Elrond for that matter."

Halbarad nodded. "I understand. Farewell."

"Farewell, Halbarad." Aragorn leapt onto his horse, spurring it into a swift gallop.

The sun sank below the horizon sooner than Aragorn expected. The Ranger was forced to make camp; beads of sweat were rolling down Roheryn's flank and he was foaming at the mouth. Gently, Aragorn laid the young girl on the soft forest ground, and then he began to kindle a fire.

~o*o*o*o~

Hope blinked several times as she awoke. The pale moonlight filtered through the treetops. Groggily, Hope propped herself up on her elbows, taking in her surroundings. She was still in a forest, but the trees here were quite different from the ones near her house. A campfire was crackling merrily before. "I am glad to see you awake," a voice stated. Hope could barely make out a figure in the shadows. Quickly, she seized her hiking stick, ready to attack if necessary. The figure in the shadows stood up. "Do not be afraid. I do not mean to hurt you." The figure stepped into the firelight, revealing a tall man who had dark hair and stormy grey eyes like her.

"Who are you?" Hope asked, tightening her grip on the stick.

The man crouched down near her. "I am known around here as Strider."

Recognition flashed through Hope's mind, but she quickly dismissed it. "I'm Hope."

Suddenly, a horn blast sounded in the distance. It was deep call, accompanied by the sound of many marching feet and loud, throaty cries. Strider and Hope turned towards each other, both their faces clouding with dread. "Orcs!" shouted Strider. Hope nodded her head and immediately began clearing their campsite. But it was too late. The foul, slimy creatures flooded the clearing, waving their crude scimitars high in the air. Strider drew his sword, and Hope hefted her hiking stick high above her head, holding it like a baseball bat. Quickly, she swung at the nearest orc. With a resounding _thunk_, the stick made contact, and the creature fell to the ground. Hope looked at her hiking stick in surprise, and then rushed into the battle, swinging as hard as she could at the orcs. A loud _neigh_ alerted the two humans that Roheryn had joined the fray.

Within a few moments, all the orcs were either dead by Strider's sword or Hope's stick, or rather, club. Strider turned to Hope, who was panting. "You are quite a skilled fighter," he commented, beads of sweat dripping from his dark locks.

"Thanks," Hope replied, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Strider walked over to Roheryn, who had remained uninjured. "Come," he instructed, gesturing for Hope to mount. "We must leave before more come." Hope nodded and clambered into the saddle, Strider springing on behind her.

They two of them rode hard and fast through the night. As the sun rose, the valley of Rivendell came into view. It was lush, many colored flowers covering the fields. The rosy dawn sparkled in the many waterfalls and streams.

"Lord Aragorn!" voices cried as they rode through the gates. "Are you alright?" "What happened?"

Strider, or rather, Aragorn, brushed them off, merely stating, "I must see Lord Elrond immediately." He turned to Hope. "Come with me. I believe Lord Elrond may also want to speak to you."

The two walked through the halls of the city in silence. Finally, Hope spoke up. "Why didn't you tell me your real name when we first met?"

Aragorn sighed. "I did not know if I could trust you. Forgive me."

Eventually, they reached a large set of oaken doors. Aragorn gently pushed them open, revealing a relatively large study, filled with bookshelves and various papers. At desk in the middle of the room sat a dark-haired man – no, elf – intently studying a scroll. "My Lord Elrond," Aragorn greeted.

The elf looked up from his papers. "Estel," he replied. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Aragorn walked closer to him and began quietly conversing with him. Hope sighed and sank down into a chair beside the door. There was no hope in eavesdropping; they were talking in Elvish, and despite her reading all the Tolkien books several times over, she could not speak or understand it fluently. Suddenly, Elrond turned and faced her. "May I see your necklace?" he asked.

"Sure," Hope answered, standing up and walking over to the desk. She gently removed the pendant from around her neck and handed it to Elrond. "Could you be careful with it, though?" she asked. The elf-lord raised his eyebrows quizzically. "It belonged to my great-great-grandfather, so it's kind of special," she explained. Even though she acted flippant about it around her mom, she deeply cared for it and didn't want it to get damaged. Elrond nodded his head in understanding and then proceeded to examine the pendant. The memory rushed back to him, clear as day. In his hands he held the very same amethyst star he had seen Galadriel give Eradan over 450 years ago. After a few moments, Elrond handed the pendant back to Hope. "Thank you. You both may leave." Aragorn nodded and bowed slightly in respect. Hope soon followed his example before exiting the study with Aragorn.

A few moments later, Gandalf entered the study. "Well?"

Elrond sighed. "Aragorn's suspicions are correct."

"You mean to say…"

"Yes. The young girl who rode in with Aragorn is indeed one of the five Elenmîr of legend, specifically the bearer of the Forodgîl."

Gandalf's eyebrows knitted together. "How do we know that this not some trick of Sauron's?"

"I have seen the pendant for myself," Elrond retorted. "It is indeed the same pendant that the Lady Galadriel gave Eradan. The amethyst star emits a pulse of Elven magic unique to only the Elenmîr."

"You do know what this means, Master Elrond?" Gandalf asked. "The darkest times of Middle-Earth are approaching."

"Yes," Elrond replied. "But there is still a light for this world. The return of the Elenmîr had begun."

Gandalf sighed. "So it begins…"

**So one has returned, four more have yet to arrive.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! It makes me smile! :)**


	3. Falling Down

**This chapter's really short. I'm sorry!**

**Anyway, I don't own anything other than my OC's. Also, this is a non-slash story.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 3: Falling Down

"Bye Philip!"

"Great shot, man!"

"See you Monday!"

Philip Hughes waved goodbye to his teammates as he began walking home. His basketball team had just won their third consecutive game, and he had made the game-winning shot. Trying to relive the moment, Philip dribbled the basketball on the pavement, dodging imaginary opponents, before he jumped and tossed the ball into the air.

"Oops."

Philip failed to catch the basketball, and it bounced into the mass of trees bordering the sidewalk. He hurried after it, only to see it fall into a rather large rabbit hole. "Great," he groaned, before dropping to his hands and knees beside the hollow. Philip groped around blindly, trying to find the round shape of the ball in the darkness of the hole. Nothing. With a frustrated sigh, Philip crawled into the burrow, determined to retrieve his basketball. Still nothing.

"Man, this hole must be deeper than I thought." Philip edged further down the hole, not even noticing the white star pendant slip out from underneath his shirt and begin to glow. Suddenly, Philip felt the ground disappear from beneath his hands and knees. A sense of free fall overcame him. There was a bright white flash of light, and then he knew no more.

~o*o*o*o~

Boromir stood on his balcony in Minas Tirith, looking over the fields of Pelennor. His younger brother Faramir had left with the other Ithilien Rangers the previous day, and Boromir missed him very much. _But Faramir had his duty to protect Osgiliath,_ Boromir thought, _and I…_

A flash of bright white light shocked Boromir out of his musings. He immediately rushed outside, surveying the city. A body could be seen lying just outside the walls. "Open the gate!" Boromir commanded, sprinting down to the lowest level. The great stone doors creaked open, and Boromir ran outside.

A young boy, about fifteen years old, lay unconscious on the grass beside the wall. He had reddish brown hair, similar to Faramir's. Boromir's eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the white star pendant around the boy's neck, but he quickly disregarded it. _There are probably several necklaces like this_, he told himself, but he wasn't so sure. After a few moments, the boy awoke, revealing his light blue eyes. "Are you alright?" Boromir asked as the boy sat up.

The boy nodded, looking around confusedly. "Uh, where am I?"

"You are outside of the gates of Minas Tirith," Boromir replied.

The boy's eyes widened. "Minas Tirith? The capital of Gondor?"

"Yes," Boromir answered. "May I inquire of your name?"

"I'm Philip. Who're you?"

"I am Boromir, son of the Steward Denethor."

Philip's eyes widened again. "Whoa, that must have been some fall!"

Boromir gave him a quizzical look. "You fell?"

"Yeah. I was trying to get my ball out of a rabbit's hole, but I fell down the hole and somehow ended up here."

Boromir nodded, helping Philip to his feet. "Well, I do not think it will be a problem if you stayed in Minas Tirith. I am sure my father would not mind."

Philip smiled. "Thanks." The two walked into the city. Many of the townsfolk gawked at them as they passed. "What are they all looking at?" Philip wondered.

Boromir laughed. "Well, it is not everyday that they see someone dressed in such strange clothes."

"Hey, these are quite normal where I come from!" Philip retorted indignantly, gesturing to his basketball shorts and jersey.

The two continued to banter as they climbed to the very top of the city. Here, Boromir paused. "Wait out here," he instructed. "I must speak with my father." Philip nodded, and Boromir pushed open the doors of the Citadel.

Denethor looked up from his papers. "Ah, Boromir, to what do I owe this visit?"

"I found a young boy outside the gates, Father," Boromir replied. "He doesn't know how he came to be there. I was wondering if we could allow him to stay here."

Denethor paused for a moment in thought. "Yes, he may stay. But that is not all you wish to tell me." The Steward surveyed his son. After many years of raising him, he could tell when something was bothering Boromir.

Boromir took a deep breath. "The boy, Philip, wore a white star necklace. It bears a striking resemblance to the pearl star pendant in the Legend of the Elenmîr."

"Boromir, surely you do not believe that story to be true," Denethor chuckled. "It is just a legend. I will find the boy a room. He will be a welcome guest in Minas Tirith."

"Thank you, Father." Boromir turned and left the room, finding Philip sitting right where he had left him. "My father said you may stay," Boromir informed him.

Philip scrambled to his feet. "Thanks."

"It is almost time for midday meal. Do you wish to accompany me?"

"Yeah, that would be nice."

The two walked through the halls, idly chatting. Suddenly, Philip stopped. He stared at the nearby tapestry. It depicted a warrior, clad in shining armor, standing atop a pile of dead orc bodies. His reddish-brown locks flew in the wind as he triumphantly lifted his sword into the air. "Who's that?" Philip asked.

"That is the legendary Captain Herion," Boromir replied. "He was a great leader of the forces of Gondor long ago. No one knows what happened to him. It is said that he joined the Order of Legend, but that is just a tale. Come now, we will be late."

Philip's eyes lingered on the tapestry a moment longer. The face of the captain seemed so familiar, but where had he seen it before? Philip sighed and shrugged his shoulders, following Boromir to the dining hall. The answer would come to him soon.

~o*o*o*o~

Elrond smiled as he watched Hope spar with his son Elladan. The young girl had informed him that she had taken swordfighting lessons since she was very young. Suddenly, Galadriel's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

_Philip Hughes, the bearer of the Nimornegîl, has arrived in Middle-Earth._

**I hope you liked it!**

**Please Review! **


	4. Horses

**In case any of my readers haven't seen the update in Chapter 2, I decided that this will NOT have any pairings. I think this will make things a bit interesting. **

**Sorry it took so long for me to update, but I had a bunch of tests and homework. This chapter ended being longer than I expected.**

**I only own my OC's, but you probably already knew that.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

Chapter 4: Horses

The stables were dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the open door. Inside, Hunter Malbrooks was finishing saddling her stormy gray stallion, Windstorm. Hunter paused for a moment, staring into the stallion's dark eyes. "You know, Windstorm," she remarked. "I had a really weird dream last night. I was standing on a large battlefield beside another soldier. Both of us were dressed in armor, holding sharp swords stained with blood. Before us stood a tall figure, clad in black robes. An intimidating spiked steel crown rested on his hood, and in his hands he held a huge, deadly mace. The figure swung furiously at us." Hunter sighed. "But then I woke up. Shame, isn't it?"

A voice suddenly called out from outside of the stables, interrupting her thoughts. "Hurry up, Hunter!"

"Yeah, we can't wait all day!"

Hunter rolled her eyes playfully at her friends' shouts, gently stroking the stallion's neck. "Come on, Windstorm," she chuckled, mounting her. "They'll have my blood if I don't come now." Windstorm whinnied happily in response before trotting out into the wide grassy fields. There, waiting for Hunter, were her two best friends. Sara sat atop her jet-black stallion, Nightmare, her dark brown hair fluttering slightly underneath her black riding helmet. Annette slowly trotted over to Hunter on her chestnut mare, Twix. "What took you so long?"

Hunter shrugged her shoulders. "Just got distracted, I guess."

"Who cares?" Sara asked jokingly. "Race you to the fence!" She spurred Nightmare into a gallop across the fields to the tiny line on the horizon that was the border between the neighboring farms.

"Hey, no fair!" Hunter yelled playfully, cantering after her, Annette close behind.

After a few moments, the three reached the fence, Hunter in the lead. "Man!" Sara exclaimed. "I can never beat you!"

"And you even had a head start!" Annette added, earning her a glare from Sara. Ignoring the death stare she had received from her friend, Annette continued happily, "Hunter, let's face it, you are just too fast for us!"

Hunter smiled, gently brushing her dirty blonde hair from her face. "Thanks."

"Hey, what's that?" Sara inquired, pointing to the crystalline orange star pendant around Hunter's neck. "I've never seen you wear that before."

"Oh, this?" Hunter fingered the necklace thoughtfully. "It's a family heirloom. I've had it since I was little." Suddenly, a fierce smile lit her features. "Race you back!"

"OI!" Sara cried, but Hunter ignored her. She kicked Windstorm into a swift gallop. The stallion was named for a good reason, and he speedily left both Twix and Nightmare in the dust.

"I WON!" Hunter whooped as she reached the stables. She wheeled around to face her friends, but found them nowhere in sight. _Where are they?_ she wondered, beginning to pace Windstorm back and forth. She didn't notice that the orange star pendant around her neck had begun to glow.

"Annette?" Hunter called. "Sara?" Suddenly, a bright white flash blinded her vision. Windstorm reared in shock, and Hunter felt the all too familiar sensation of falling off a horse, and then she knew no more.

~o*o*o*o~

Hunter groaned as she awoke. Every part of her body ached, and the bright sunlight hurt her eyes. Windstorm stood over her, gently nuzzling her face.

"Alright, alright, I'll get up," Hunter laughed, using the stallion's sturdy, muscular body for support. She was surprised to find that both she and Windstorm were atop a grassy hill, surrounded by miles of plains. The wooden stables were absolutely nowhere in sight.

"Where in the world are we?" Hunter wondered aloud, twisting her dirty blonde hair around her fingers in confusion. Windstorm whinnied in response, clearly stating _I don't know_. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Hunter mounted the gray stallion and kicked him into a gallop, determined to find some information. She didn't even notice that her riding helmet had fallen off.

~o*o*o*o~

Windstorm rode across the plains for several hours, hardly ever slowing. Eventually, the gray stallion and his rider crested a large, grassy hill. Here, Hunter paused, surveying the plains before her. To her surprise, she saw a group of about twenty men on horseback standing a little ways to her left. The men were clad in armor, which glinted in the bright sun. Many wore dark brown helmets adorned with red and gold, their blond hair fluttering in the gentle breeze. The men seemed to have noticed her as well. With a sound like thunder, the riders all began galloping in her direction, shaking the earth.

_Oh, snap._

Without hesitation, Hunter wheeled Windstorm around and began to canter swiftly away from the riders. The stallion galloped as fast as he could across the grassy plains, but he had already run several miles and was beginning to tire. Soon enough, the riders surrounded her, their spears tickling her neck.

One of the riders came forth. He, like most of the riders, had long blond hair, but unlike many of the men, he was clean-shaven. "Who are you, and what is your business in Rohan?" he demanded.

Hunter raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "My name is Hunter," she stated. "And I honestly don't know what I am doing here."

Another man came forward. "You are lost?" he asked.

Hunter nodded. Both men exchanged glances with each other before motioning to the other riders. The spears were lifted, and Windstorm stopped shifting nervously beneath her. "Our apologies, Lady Hunter," the first man replied. "We did not realize you were lost. Tell, me where is your home?"

"Texas," Hunter answered blatantly.

"Texas?" The second man gave her a confused look. "I have never heard of that land before."

"It's rather far from here," Hunter replied, starting to grasp the situation. "I'm not sure I can even get there, considering that I can't remember how I ended up in – Rohan, did you say?"

The first man nodded his head, his eyebrows furrowing together in thought. "Well, I suppose you can stay in Meduseld with us until you find a way back to your homeland. I am sure Father would not mind."

"He does not mind much these days," the second man muttered darkly to the first. "He does not even notice the orcs and Wild Men that trample over these lands." He then turned to face Hunter. "Come," he instructed. "We make for Edoras."

The rest of the soldiers wheeled their horses around, but Hunter stayed firmly put. "Who are you?" she questioned suspiciously.

"I am Théodred," the clean-shaven man introduced.

"And I am Ėomer," the second man added. Théodred rode to the head of the riders, leading them forward across the grasslands.

~o*o*o*o~

The company galloped at a swift pace across the fields of Rohan. _Rohan…Rohan…_Hunter mulled the word over and over in her head. She couldn't understand why the name felt so familiar. Something felt familiar about the two leaders of the riders, too, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

Soon, a towering hill loomed in the distance. Many small, thatched roofed buildings dotted the slopes, and at the very top stood a grand house, larger than any of the structures below. "Is that Edoras?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Théodred answered. "And that is Meduseld," he added, pointing to the large building, "the home of the King of the Mark."

The company silently passed through the great wooden gates of Edoras. Hunter did her best to ignore many of the curious whispers and stares she received. The people were clad in garments of dark brown and green, and many wore solemn expressions on their faces. The streets seemed deserted, with only a few people walking along. It was a rather depressing sight.

Eventually, they reached Meduseld. It was a majestic hall, its wooden doors painted with intricate golden designs. The company dismounted before its stone steps, handing the reins of their horses to a couple of rather overwhelmed stablehands. Hunter stood beside Windstorm, unsure of what would happen next.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder, and she looked up to see Ėomer and Théodred standing beside her. "Follow us," Ėomer instructed. Hunter nodded, and the two men led the way into the hall.

As she passed through the great wooden doors, she noticed a pallid man staring fixedly at her. He was clad in black, and his hair hung limply beside his face. Ėomer had seen this as well. "That is Grima Wormtonuge," he informed her, a bitter note in his voice. "Pay no heed to him."

The three continued to stroll down the dimly lit halls of Meduseld. Eventually, they stopped in front of a dark wooden door engraved with an image of a horse rearing. "This is where you will be staying," Théodred stated.

Hunter gently pushed open the doors. The room was simple, yet grand. A bed sat in the corner, turned down with burgundy sheets. A plain chestnut dresser rested against the dark wall. Another door led out of the room, presumably to the washroom.

A grin broke out on Hunter's face as she examined her accommodations. She turned around to face the men. "Thanks."

Théodred and Ėomer nodded in reply, small smiles upon their faces, before exiting the hall. Hunter stared at their retreating backs pensively. _Théodred…Ėomer…Rohan…where have I heard this before?_

Suddenly, it all came together, like the pieces of a puzzle. _The Lord of the Rings!_ Hunter exclaimed to herself. _Gosh, I haven't read those books in at least two years._

~o*o*o*o~

"What news from that festering hole of Rohan?" Saruman asked the pitiful creature groveling before him.

"There is a newcomer in the Golden Hall, milord," Wormtongue informed him, "a young girl of Men."

Saruman scoffed. "Is she not from Rohan?"

"No," Grima answered. "She does not hail from Gondor, either. Her manner of dress is strange to me." Wormtongue paused for a moment before adding, "She bore a strange necklace: a six-pointed star, carved from vibrant orange crystal."

The White Wizard froze at Grima's last words. He quickly pushed himself out of his dark marble throne and strode to the shelf where he kept the volumes of the history of Middle-Earth. Saruman seized a large, leather-bound book, hurriedly flipping through the yellowed pages.

Eventually, he came across a detailed illustration, one of the few colored ones in the book. It depicted five six-pointed stars, sparkling in some unseen light. One was carved of pearl, another of amethyst, another made of emerald, another of sapphire, and…

"Ah!" Smiling in triumph, Saruman traced the outlines of the bright orange star drawn on the page.

"So the Elenmîr are returning," the White wizard murmured, a dark tone in his voice. "Oh yes, they will be very useful…"

**I hope you liked it.**

**Again, sorry about the long wait.**

**Please Review!**


	5. Yrch!

**Wow! I have so many reviews! Okay, well, 8 isn't exactly a lot, but it's still awesome! Thanks to all of my reviewers: Glory Bee, Cretha Loesing, AuroraStarfire, Galad Estel, Enchanted Authoress, and SoccerGirl4Life30. I really appreciate your comments!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my OC's, no matter how much I want to.**

Chapter 5: Yrch!

Fern Anderson, Dana Johnston, and Denise Johnston were all crammed into the back of Mrs. Johnston's car, happily chatting about the movie they had just seen.

"Wasn't that awesome?" Dana asked, a grin stretched across her face.

"Absolutely!" her younger sister Denise replied. "My favorite part was the ending!"

"I liked the trailers they showed at the beginning of the movie," Fern remarked. "Did you see the trailer for _The Fellowship of the Ring_?"  
>Dana nodded her head. "Yeah. It looked pretty cool."<br>"I can't wait for it to come out!" Fern exclaimed. "I can't wait to see the Shire, Bree, the Ringwraiths, Rivendell…"

"Okay, okay, we get it!" Denise interrupted, smiling. "You're really excited for the movie."

Fern nodded her head. "Yep!"

"Here we are, girls," Mrs. Johnston stated, pulling into the driveway of the Johnston residence. The three girls happily clambered out of the car. Denise and Dana went to stand by their mom, while Fern skipped down to the sidewalk.

"Fern," Mrs. Johnston called, causing said girl to whirl around.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure about walking home? You know I could drive you there."

Fern shook her head. "It's fine. My house is only a few blocks away."

"Alright," Mrs. Johnston replied. "Bye, Fern. Stay safe."

"Bye!" Denise called.

"See you on Monday!" Dana added.

"Bye!" Fern happily began strolling down the sidewalk, thinking about _The Lord of the Rings_. It was her favorite book series in the whole wide world, and now it was being turned into a movie! "I am so excited for _The Fellowship of the Ring_!" she squealed joyfully to no one in particular.

Suddenly, a black-feathered arrow pierced the trunk of the tree in front of her. Fern stared at it, her bright green eyes as wide as saucers. The arrowhead was cruelly shaped, and the slight coloring of the tip could only mean that the arrow had been poisoned. It was unmistakable as to who made that dart. "But it can't be," Fern murmured. "They're just fiction."

A snarl in the bushes made her think otherwise. A swarm of foul creatures charged out of the brush. They were misshapen, covered in dirt and grime. Their skin was tinged a sickly color, but most of it was concealed with jagged black armor.

That was all Fern needed to see. With a jolt, she began sprinting down the sidewalk, her golden hair flying in the wind. As she ran, a word slipped unbidden from her lips.

"_Yrch!_"

~o*o*o*o~

Fern dashed into her house, slamming the front door behind her. But the orcs were relentless. The foul creatures stormed onto her porch, the loud clattering of weapons and armor audible through the walls.

_Good thing mom's not home yet_, Fern thought. The orcs were now battering and hammering on the door, and Fern did not doubt that they would break through. Quick as a flash, she scurried out of the back door of her house and into her backyard. She swiftly leapt over the fence and dove into the woodlands behind her house, tearing through the trees at breakneck speed. If one was watching her, one would see the emerald star pendant bouncing on her chest begin to glow. The necklace shone brighter and brighter, until a brilliant white light completely enveloped the young girl. A white flash illuminated the trees, and Fern was gone.

~o*o*o*o~

Legolas hurried to where he thought he had seen the white flash, his patrol group following. The Lord Elrond of Rivendell had alerted his father to their coming, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. It had only been a month since the message had come.

When the company of elves reached a clearing, they found Legolas's suspicions to be correct. A young girl lay on the grass, her flaxen hair fanning out beneath her. Upon her chest rested a six-pointed star pendant carved from a bright emerald.

The young girl's eyes slowly fluttered open. "_Greetings_," Legolas stated.

"_Where am I?_" she wondered aloud, scrambling into a sitting position.

"_You are in Mirkwood, milady_," Legolas informed her. "_I am Legolas, son of Thranduil._"

"_You are Legolas?_" she asked, mouth agape.

Legolas nodded. "_What is your name?_"

"_I am Fern_," she replied, hardly believing what she was seeing. Legolas, from _The Lord of the Rings_, was standing beside her. She was in Middle-Earth!

Suddenly, Fern stiffened, staring warily at the surrounding trees. "_What is it?_" Legolas inquired.

"_There were orcs_," Fern stated. "_They were chasing me._"

Legolas's eyes widened with worry. He then turned to one of the elves standing closest to him. "_Lairion, inform my father,_" he ordered. "_Another Elenmîr has arrived. They are being hunted._"

Lairion nodded in understanding before speeding off towards the palace with a few other ellons. Legolas then turned back towards Fern. "_Lady Fern, are you injured?_"

Fern shook her head. "_I am not hurt._"

"_Follow me, then, milady,_" Legolas instructed, holding out a hand. Fern gratefully accepted it and pulled herself to her feet.

"_Thank you_," she stated, pushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. _My ear…_Fern felt it again. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Her ears were now pointed.

_I'm an elf!_ Fern exclaimed to herself. It was at this moment that she realized her whole conversation with Legolas had been in Sindarin.

~o*o*o*o~

"Why is it that whenever I give you a task to capture something, you fail to return with what I asked?" Saruman inquired, a deadly tone in his voice.

"She was too quick, milord," Zagrat, one of the orc captains, replied. "We could not catch her."

Saruman whirled around in frustration. "The Great Lord Sauron is becoming impatient," he stated. "The Elenmîr must be found and captured at all costs."

**I hope you enjoyed my chapter! I'm sorry it was so short.**

**Oh, and in case you were wondering, Fern can still speak in Westron. But since Legolas addressed her first in Sindarin, she replied in the same tongue, which comes naturally to her because she is an elf.**

**Again, thanks to my reviewers! Please keep it up! You really make my day! (I'm using a lot of exclamation points, aren't I?)**


	6. The Last One

**Okay, so here is the next chapter. Like most of the previous chapters, it's kind of short. My apologies.**

**Again, thanks to my reviewers. You really make my day.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my OC's, who are beginning to become quite numerous.**

Chapter 6: The Last One

_Dear Lord Elrond of Imladris,_

_ I fear the situation with the Elenmîr has become dire. The bearer of the Lasgîl appeared in the forests of Mirkwood just this day, but it was said that she had been chased by orcs. _

_ The Dark Lord knows about the Elenmîr's return and will do anything to capture the knowledge that they hold. You must hurry and find them before the shadow does._

_ Farewell,_

_ Thranduil, King of Mirkwood_

Elrond sighed as he read the letter. If what Thranduil had said was true, then the Elenmîr were in grave danger. _They must learn of their destiny immediately_, Elrond mused, _or they will not be able to ward off the shadow that pursues them._

Galadriel's voice rang through his mind. _Only one is left that needs to return,_ she stated. _The Duingîl still remains in the other realm._ _We must find its bearer before the darkness does._

~o*o*o*o~

Christian Rivera, Ryan Thompson, Jacob Howe, and Chase Barnes walked cheerfully down the sidewalk. It was a Friday afternoon, and the four of them were headed to the park for a game of basketball.

"This is going to be so awesome!" Christian cheered, dribbling the basketball a few times. Basketball was his favorite sport, and he loved playing it every chance he got.

Ryan nodded his head. "Yep! And the best part is, I don't have any homework this weekend."

Jacob made a face. "Lucky! I have this huge project I have to do for Mrs. Edwards."

"Man," Chase sighed. "I have to do that project too."

Ryan opened his mouth to tease the two of them, but he was cut off by the sudden growls in the distance.

"Uh, guys, what are those?" Christian asked, pointing towards the crest of the street they were walking along. There, atop the hill, stood four furry…things. They seemed at least five feet tall, with golden hair that bristled up the muscular humps on their backs. Upon each rode a small figure.

"Do you think they're dogs?" Jacob suggested.

Ryan shook his head, his eyes fearful. "I don't think they're just dogs."

Chase's eyes widened as he realized what those creatures were. "They're wargs!"

"Wargs?" Ryan, Christian, and Jacob chorused, confused.

"They're like demonic wolves." Chase froze as the wargs began charging down the hill. "Look, no time to explain, just RUN!"

Christian, Ryan, and Jacob didn't hesitate and immediately began sprinting down the sidewalk, closely followed by Chase. But with each step they took, the snarls of the wargs got louder and closer. Eventually, the four reached the park.

"Into the trees!" Chase shouted. The four plunged into the thicket on the border of the park, tearing through the woods as fast as they could.

Finally, Chase stopped, gasping for breath. _I think we lost them_, he thought to himself, too tired to form words. A snarl in the distance told him otherwise. Chase quickly leapt into the nearest tree, scrambling into its branches.

A large warg entered the small clearing. The creature was larger than Chase had imagined, bigger than the lions he had seen at the zoo. Upon its back rode another creature that Chase thought wasn't supposed to exist: an orc.

The warg paused, sniffing the air. The orc dismounted, staring around at the trees. Chase froze, trying to be as still and silent as possible.

The orc and the warg seemed to stand in that clearing for ages. Finally, the orc swung up onto the warg. "There's no Star-Child here," the orc muttered. "No shiny crystal stars in sight." The warg snarled in agreement before wheeling around and striding out of the clearing.

Chase didn't come out of his hiding spot until the sounds of the warg's breathing and soft footsteps were well out of earshot. _Wonder why they were looking for this,_ he pondered, staring down at the sapphire star necklace that had slipped out from beneath his shirt.

Chase walked for a few minutes, searching for his friends. "Hey, Christian!" he called.

No answer.

"Christian?" he tried again. Still nothing.

"Ryan? Jacob?"

No one answered him. Chase cursed inwardly. _I must've lost them as we were running._

Chase began walking in a general direction, hoping that the park was that way. Unfortunately, he was only met by more trees. _Great,_ he thought. _Now I'm lost._

A voice suddenly broke through his musings. _Chase._

"Who's there?" Chase asked, staring around at the trees worriedly.

_Do not fear_, the voice assured him. _I have come to bring you out of danger._ A lady stepped out from among the trees. She was clad in white, and her long blonde hair fell in waves over her back.

Despite never having met her before, Chase immediately knew who she was. "Galadriel," he breathed.

"Indeed," Galadriel nodded.

Chase looked up at the great Elven lady in amazement. _But isn't she just fiction?_ he thought. _Along with the wargs and the orcs?_

"I am afraid not, young one," Galadriel stated, having heard Chase's thoughts. "All will be explained in due time. Come now, we must hurry."

Chase stepped towards her, the deep blue star pendant around his neck softly glowing. The edges of his vision began to grow hazy with a white light until all he could see was Galadriel standing in front of him. "Take my hand, Chase," she instructed. Chase did so, and slowly, everything became brighter, filling his vision with the brilliant white glow.

Soon, the light began to fade away, revealing a large forest filled with silver trees. Chase and Galadriel were standing on a huge platform in one of trees. Everything around them seemed to glow with a faint light.

"Welcome, Chase, to Lothlórien."

Chase stared around in wonder. The wood was even more magnificent than Tolkien had described it to be! "Wow," he murmured.

Galadriel laughed lightly. "It is indeed beautiful," she agreed. "But go now and rest. Night had already fallen here."

Chase nodded and began descending down to the forest floor. As he passed by a small pane of decorative glass, he froze. Yes, that was indeed his reflection in the glass, with his short dark hair and deep blue eyes. But his ears… Chase reached up, feeling his ears. No, he hadn't seen wrong. His ears were pointed!

_I'm an elf!_ he exclaimed to himself. _Well, this certainly has been a very interesting day._

~o*o*o*o~

_ A wide, flat plain stretched towards the horizon. In the east, the sky was dimming, enveloping the stars one by one. But in the north and the west, five stars remained. One shone a vivid purple. Another sparkled pure white. One gave off a vibrant orange glow, and two more shone bright green and deep blue. A voice rang out in the distance:_

_The Order of Legend must join together once more_

_The Elenmir, the Star Jewels, thought only to be lore._

_One shall come from Rohirric glen,_

_Another shall come from Gondorian men_

_One hails from Mirkwood, its dark forests deep,_

_One from Imladris, where there is still peace_

_And last, a Dúnadan, whose race is falling_

_They travel to Rivendell to answer fate's calling._

_With knowledge of Arda gained from another world,_

_They shall stand strong as the shadow is unfurled._

In Middle-Earth, five children awoke, each experiencing the same dream. And all had an idea of what was to happen next.

**Okay, so if any of you were wondering why Chase didn't pass out upon entry into Middle-Earth and why he came to Lothlórien instead of the home of his ancestors, it was all because of Galadriel's intervention. Since she came to Chase, she used some of her own magic to help bring him to Middle-Earth, which allowed for Chase to retain consciousness. She also brought him to Lothlórien instead of the home of his ancestors, which, in case any of you didn't know, is Rivendell. I couldn't really explain this in the story, so I just put it down here.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Like always, please review! It makes me happy! :D**


	7. Fate's Calling

**Okay, everyone, here is the next chapter.**

**I don't own anything other than Hope, Philip, Hunter, Fern, and Chase. Gosh, that's a lot.**

Chapter 7: Fate's Calling

Hunter thundered through the forest upon Windstorm. The feeling the dream had given her had been quite clear - she needed to come to Rivendell as soon as possible. It had been hard explaining the situation to Éowyn, Éomer, and Théodred, whom she had become quite close to in the past few weeks, but they had eventually understood, and Hunter promised to return before setting off. Thankfully, she had not run into any trouble on the way there, and she had no need to use the sword strapped to her belt.

Windstorm's hooves clattered on the cobblestones as Hunter rode into the great Elven city. Beautifully crafted arches decorated the gateway, and the flowers bloomed in vibrant shades of orange, yellow, green, and pink. Hunter slowly dismounted, marveling at the majesty of the city.

The sudden hoofbeats behind her snapped Hunter out of her awe, causing her to whirl around. Two horses rode beneath the archway behind her, both with Elven riders. One was a male with golden hair and a slender build common to the Elves. The second was a young girl appearing about Hunter's age. She shared the same flaxen hair as the male, and her green eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Hunter.

"Who are you?" the female elf asked, dismounting her horse.

"I'm Hunter," the human replied. "And now that I've given you my name, I would like to have yours in return."

The elleth shot her a glare before responding. "I'm Fern. Pleasure to meet you, Hunter."

Legolas watched amusedly as the two exchanged words. He had been much younger when the first Order of Legend had been formed, but he still recalled the exchange between his father's advisor Feredir and the man of Rohan, Fastred. _Some things never change_, he mused as both Fern and Hunter were escorted to Elrond's study.

~o*o*o*o~

The study was immense, filled with several chestnut bookcases and tables. Around the largest of these tables were gathered three people, all appearing to be about thirteen, Hunter's age. One was a boy with reddish brown hair and kind blue eyes. Another was a young girl, her dark hair falling to her shoulders. The final person was another boy, but on closer inspection, one would see that he was an Elf. He had dark hair like the girl, but his eyes were deep blue instead of piercing gray.

Hunter and Fern entered the room quietly, unsure of what was to happen next. The red-haired boy looked up from the maps that had been left atop the table. "Hey," he called, raising his hand in a greeting. "I'm Philip."

Hunter nodded her head. "I'm Hunter."

"I'm Fern," the elleth added, taking a seat.

The other two people at the table inclined their heads in welcome. "I'm Chase," the boy introduced.

"I'm Hope," the girl stated.

At that moment, the massive oak doors of the study creaked open, and in walked both the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Elrond, the latter carrying a rather large roll of cloth. Even though Hunter had never met either of them, the sense of authority and power surrounding them made their identities quite clear.

"Ah, I see that everyone has arrived," Elrond remarked, striding to the table. "You five have been called to Rivendell for a reason of great importance."

Elrond laid the roll of cloth on the table and unfolded it, revealing a beautiful tapestry. Five figures stood among a field of blue. One was a dark haired man with an amethyst star pendant around his neck. Beside him stood a man with reddish-brown hair, a glimmering white star around his neck. Another man stood among them, his fair hair contrasting with the vibrant orange pendant he wore. Two elves also stood in the picture; one with golden hair and one with dark hair, green and blue stars around their necks respectively.

"This is the Order of Legend," Galadriel began, gesturing to the tapestry. "Long ago, these five were sent to another realm with the task of studying the texts there which contain information about the events in Middle-Earth – past, present, and future. Each was given one of the Elenmîr, five star pendants carved from precious stones and imbued with Elvish magic. These, along with the knowledge gained from the texts, were passed down to the Order's descendants." Here, Galadriel paused, gazing at the five thirteen-year-olds gathered around her. "You five are the heirs of the Order of Legend."

Five mouths dropped open in wonder. "You, Hope Adkins, are the descendant of Eradan, one of the Dúnedain, bearer of the Forodgîl, the Star of the North," Galadriel stated. "Philip Hughes, you are the descendant of Herion, captain of Gondor, bearer of the Nimornegîl, the Star of the White Tree. Hunter Malbrooks, you are the descendant of Fastred, man of Rohan, bearer of the Anorgîl, the Star of the Sun. Fern Anderson, you are the descendant of Feredir of Mirkwood, bearer of the Lasgîl, the Star of the Leaf. And you, Chase Barnes, are the descendant of Erynion of Imladris, bearer of the Duingîl, the Star of the River." As she addressed each of the children, Galadriel indicated the corresponding figure in the tapestry, and each time, one more pair of eyes widened in amazement and disbelief.

"You five have been called to Middle-Earth to aid us as the darkest hour of our time approaches," Elrond continued. "I trust that you have all read the texts, correct?" Hope, Philip, Hunter, Fern, and Chase all nodded their heads silently, too stunned to form words.

"Under no circumstances must you reveal the future to any of us," Elrond instructed, "for that could have dire consequences." The elf-lord's tone became very ominous. "Sauron and his forces are hunting you. The information you hold is more powerful than you believe. If the Dark Lord obtained it, it could spell disaster for all of Middle-Earth."

The looks of amazement on the five children's faces were now replaced with looks of fear and horror. "Do not fear," Galadriel reassured them. "And do not completely trust what you have read. For the future has many paths, and none of it can be certain, and even your mere presence here can alter the course of destiny."

"As for what becomes of the Order of Legend, we shall leave this for you to decide," Elrond stated. "Just remember to keep your necklaces on at all times." He and Galadriel departed, leaving five very worried and amazed children behind.

~o*o*o*o~

Hope stared after the two Elves for a few moments before sinking into a chair beside the table. This was unbelievable! She couldn't understand how Elrond and Galadriel expected them to basically help save Middle-Earth. _After all,_ she mused, _we're only kids!_

Apparently, the others shared her thoughts. Fern gazed at the tapestry in wonder, unsure of what to do. Philip had frozen, unable to move due to shock. Hunter had begun pacing silently, shaking her head in disbelief. Chase had also sat down, placing his head in his hands.

After a few moments, Hope broke the silence. "So, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Chase replied.

"Well, I honestly don't think we should do anything," Fern stated. "From what I can gather, this is after _The Hobbit_ and before _The Fellowship of the Ring_. We shouldn't interfere with the events, you know, since they're rather important."

"But we were brought here to help," Hope retorted. "If we just sat here, we wouldn't be doing what we're supposed to do!"

Chase stood up. "Hope, Fern does have a point. If we did anything, we could affect what happens to Frodo, the Ring, and the Fellowship."

Philip, who had gotten over his shock, now had something else on his mind. "Um, guys, I…"

Hunter cut him off. "But we should be doing something!" she remarked, facing Fern.

"Look," Fern stated, "I don't want to get involved in all the battles and fights!"

"Um, guys?" Philip tried again. Once again, he was ignored.

"I will not just sit around as people are being killed out there!" Hope shouted, springing to her feet.

"OI!" Philip yelled, causing everyone in the room to fall silent. "Sorry to interrupt and all," he continued, lowering his voice, "but I've only read the first book."

Hope, Hunter, Fern, and Chase all stared at him in surprise. "What?"

"I just finished reading _The Fellowship of the Ring_," Philip stated. "I was brought here before I could start _The Two Towers_."

"Well, this changes things," Chase commented, running a hand through his hair. "Has everyone else read all the books?"

Hope and Fern nodded their heads, the latter somewhat more eagerly. Hunter sighed. "I've read all three books," she informed them, "but I read them so long ago I can hardly remember what happens."

"Great," Fern groaned. "But we still haven't answered the question: What are we going to do now?"

"Well," Hope offered, "since Sauron and probably Saruman are hunting us, we shouldn't stay together."

"I kind of promised to return to Rohan," Hunter stated. "I intend to stick with that promise."

"I want to return to Gondor," Philip chimed in. "Boromir said his brother was coming to visit, and I really want to meet him."

"I think I'm ready to become a Ranger," Hope remarked. "I've been training for a while now."

Chase nodded. "Rivendell is where I am from. I would like to stay here." He turned to Fern, who stood right beside him. "Fern, it's rather peaceful here. I'm pretty sure you could stay here too."

Fern shook her head. "No. Even though I like it here, Mirkwood has become a home for me."

"Alright," Hope agreed, making her way to the door. Fern, Hunter, Chase, and Philip followed.

"Do you think we'll ever see each other again?" Chase asked.

"With luck, yes," Hope replied as the five walked into the hall, each going their separate ways.

~o*o*o*o~

Chase wandered through the Last Homely House, unsure of what to do next. Somehow, he ended up in the stables. There, a tall figure was rubbing the nose of a large chestnut horse. The figure was clad in gray robes, and atop his head rested a faded blue hat. It didn't take long for Chase to recognize the man.

"Gandalf!" he gasped, surprised to see the wizard so soon.

The wizard whirled around, smiling as he saw who had called him. "Ah, yes," he greeted. "And you must be Chase Barnes."

"How did you know?" Chase asked.

Gandalf chuckled. "Elrond informed me of the Elenmîr's arrival. He also told me their names." The wizard turned towards the horse once more, guiding it out of the stables. "Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you, Chase, but I must be going."

"Wait!" Chase ran after the wizard, who had stopped at a large wooden cart. "Where are you going?"

"An old friend of mine, the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, is celebrating his birthday," Gandalf replied. "I do not want to be late."

"Ah, Bilbo!" Chase exclaimed.

Gandalf seemed surprised. "You have heard of him?"

"Yep," Chase nodded. "I read all about his adventure with the Dwarves and the dragon."

The gray wizard laughed. "Well, I'm sure he'll be pleased to know that he is rather famous, even in other realms!" Gandalf paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Would you like to meet him?" he asked eventually.

"Seriously?" Chase questioned, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Indeed," Gandalf chuckled. "Bilbo is quite familiar with the old tales. I am sure he would like to see one come to life."

Chase grinned. "I'd love to come. I've always liked hobbits."

**Alright, so now the Elenmîr have all met each other. And since they have all gone their separate ways, the story may follow several different plotlines at once. I think I will be mainly focusing on Hope and Hunter, since they will have the biggest adventures. You will also see Chase and Philip, but not as much. Fern, well, she's not really one for adventures or fighting, in case you hadn't noticed.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Please Review!**

**Oh, and thanks to everyone who has already reviewed!**


	8. The Shire

**Okay, so this chapter ended up being a bit longer than I expected. I ended up splitting it into two parts. Here is the first part.**

**Oh, I may have made a mistake in the last chapter. For the different plotlines, you will probably see Chase and Gandalf for the next couple of chapters, then you will see Hope and Philip with maybe a little of Chase and Fern, and then you will see Hunter's adventure. And THEN we get to the main events of The Fellowship of the Ring, I think. I honestly don't really have a firm idea of the details yet.**

**Anyways, I don't own anything other than my OC's.**

Chapter 8: The Shire

Chase and Gandalf rode through the countryside. It was picturesque, with rolling green hills and wide meadow filled with blooming flowers. Eventually, Chase began to see people farming in the fields. They were rather short, with curly hair and bare hairy feet. Everyone seemed peaceful and happy.

"Hobbits!" Chase gasped, gazing at the little folk.

Gandalf chuckled and began to hum a merry tune. Soon, the wizard began to sing. After hearing the words a few times, Chase joined in.

"The road goes ever on and on,

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the road has gone,

And I must follow if I can…"

A young hobbit lad with curly black locks and piercing blue eyes dashed onto the hill to their right. "You're late," he addressed sternly, crossing his arms.

Gandalf shot Chase a glare before responding. "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

The two stared seriously at each other for a few long moments. Finally, neither was able to hold in the wave of laughter. Both wizard and hobbit burst out chuckling, and Chase couldn't help but join in the laughter.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Gandalf!" Frodo cried, leaping into the cart and giving the wizard a huge hug.

Gandalf smiled and returned the embrace. "You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday?"

Frodo grinned and settled back into the seat. Gandalf noticed the young hobbit eyeing Chase curiously. "Frodo, this is Chase," the wizard introduced. "He's an Elf that journeyed with me from Rivendell."

"Rivendell?" Frodo exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yep," Chase replied. "It's a really nice place. As nice as the Shire."

The cart bumped cheerfully along the dirt path as they continued their journey through the Shire. Many of the hobbits along the road stopped what they were doing and gaped at the cart as it passed. "What are they all staring at?" Chase questioned.

Frodo laughed. "Well, we don't see many Elves in the Shire."

Gandalf chuckled, puffing smoke out of his pipe. "So, how is the old rascal?" he asked Frodo. "I hear it's going to be a party of special magnificence."

"You know Bilbo," Frodo replied. "He's got the whole place in an uproar."

"Well, that should please him," Gandalf remarked.

"Half the Shire's been invited," Frodo continued. "And the rest of them are turning up anyway!" The hobbit paused for a moment, deep in thought. "To tell you the truth, Bilbo has been acting a bit odd lately." Both Gandalf and Chase raised their eyebrows. "I mean, more than usual," Frodo corrected. "He's taken to locking himself in his study. He spends hours and hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking. He's up to something."

Both Gandalf and Chase knew exactly what the elderly hobbit was up to and gazed deliberately away from Frodo, not saying anything. "Alright then, you two," Frodo remarked. "Keep your secrets."

"What?" Chase asked, trying to appear like he had no clue what Frodo was talking about. In reality, however, he knew exactly what was to happen tonight.

"I'm not sure about you, Chase, but I know you have something to do with it, Gandalf," Frodo stated. "Before you came along we Bagginses were very well thought of. We never had any adventures or did anything unexpected."

"If you're referring to the incident with the dragon," Gandalf replied, "I was barely involved. All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door."

"Whatever you did," Frodo continued, "you've been officially labeled a 'Disturber of the Peace'."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Suddenly, several hobbit children sprinted over to the cart. "Gandalf! Gandalf!" they cheered. "Fireworks Gandalf!"

Chase looked at the wizard. "Well?" Gandalf just smiled, and suddenly, fireworks ignited in the back of the cart, spiraling through the air and exploding. The three riding in the cart chuckled as the children ran about, shouting in delight.

Frodo turned and looked at Chase. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Chase."

"You too, Frodo," Chase replied.

"Gandalf," Frodo continued, standing up, "I'm glad you're back." He then jumped from the cart, landing quietly on the grass beside the road.

"So am I, dear boy," Gandalf sighed. "So am I."

Gandalf and Chase continued to ride along the road, finally stopping at a rather large, low hill. Several windows peeped out from the side of the hill, and in the front was a round green door. Gandalf smiled at the sight of the hobbit hole. "Welcome, Chase, to Bag-End."

Chase jumped off of the cart and bent down to look at the sign on the gate. "'No admittance'," he read. "'Except on party business'." Gandalf just shook his head as he pushed open the gate.

The two of them walked up to the door. Gandalf rapped on the door with his staff. "NO THANK YOU!" a voice bellowed from inside. "We don't want any more visitors, well wishers or distant relations!"

Gandalf chuckled. "And what about very old friends?" he asked. "Or perhaps a legend come to life?"

The round door of Bag-End opened, revealing an elderly yet still quite young-looking hobbit wearing a fine red waistcoat. "Gandalf?" the hobbit gasped.

"Bilbo Baggins," the wizard greeted.

Bilbo broke into a huge grin. "My dear Gandalf!" Gandalf dropped to his knees, and the two shared a huge embrace.

"It's good to see you," Gandalf replied. "One hundred and eleven years old, who would believe it?" He stared closely at Bilbo. "You haven't aged a day!"

Bilbo laughed merrily. "And where is this 'legend come to life', Gandalf?" he asked.

"Ah, yes. Bilbo, meet Chase, an Elf from Rivendell," Gandalf introduced, a twinkle in his eye. He leaned closer to Bilbo and whispered, "Chase is one of the five Elenmîr of legend."

Bilbo's eyes widened in amazement. "One of the…Oh my!" The hobbit rushed forward, shaking Chase's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Chase!" He then hurried to the open hobbit hole door. "Well, come on, come in! Welcome!"

The hobbit hole was quite nice, in Chase's opinion. The walls were painted a cheery yellow, and old papers and maps were strewn about. It was rather small, though, and both he and Gandalf had to stoop down in order to fit.

"Tea?" Bilbo suggested as he placed Gandalf's staff and hat near the hat stand. "Or maybe something a little stronger? I've got a few bottles of the Old Winyard left, 1296, a very good year, almost as old as I am." He chuckled at this before running off into another room, continuing to ramble on.

Gandalf smiled. "Oh, dear Bilbo." He then walked into an adjoining room.

Chase tried to follow, but he brushed the chandelier, causing it to swing. "Oops," he muttered, steadying it. The ellon then turned around, banging his forehead into the doorframe of the next room. "Ow!"

Gandalf peered at him from the other room. "Are you alright, Chase?"

"Yeah," he called back. "I'm fine." With caution (so as not to bump his head again), Chase walked into the room where Gandalf was. The fire in the fireplace was crackling merrily, and opposite to the hearth was a table positively covered in old parchments. Gandalf was leaning over this table, gazing at an old map.

"I can make you some eggs, if you…" Bilbo walked into the front room, holding a plate of cheese. "Um…Gandalf? Chase?" he called, unable to find neither wizard nor ellon in the room.

Gandalf leaned out of the doorway. "In here. And just tea, thank you."

"Oh, right," Bilbo nodded. "And what about you, Chase?"

"I'm fine," Chase answered. "Thank you, though."

Bilbo nodded, staring down at the cheese he held in his hands. "You don't mind if I do, do you?"

"Oh, not at all!" Gandalf replied, taking a seat.

Chase smiled. "Go ahead."

Bilbo happily put a bit of cheese into his mouth before starting to prepare tea. Suddenly, a knock came at the door. "Bilbo!" a voice shouted. "Bilbo Baggins!"

Bilbo froze, flattening himself against the wall, which is quite hard to do considering that hobbit holes have rounded walls. "I'm not home!" he whispered urgently, creeping towards the window. "It's the Sackville-Bagginses! They're after the house!" He tiptoed back towards Chase and Gandalf. "They've never forgiven me for living this long. I've got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace." He sighed, setting the plate of cheese down. "I want to see mountains again. Mountains, Gandalf! And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book."

"So you mean to go through with your plan then?" Gandalf asked.

"Yes, yes, it's all in hand," Bilbo replied, removing the kettle from the fire."

"You know, Frodo suspects something," Chase remarked.

"Of course he does," Bilbo stated simply. "He's a Baggins, not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle."

"You will tell him, won't you?" Gandalf inquired.

"Yes, yes," Bilbo answered rather absentmindedly.

Chase gazed at the hobbit. "Frodo likes you very much."

"I know," Bilbo sighed. "He'd probably come with me if I asked him to. I think in his heart Frodo's still in love with the Shire, the woods, the fields and the little rivers." The hobbit shook his head. "I am old. I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin, sort of stretched like butter scraped over too much bread," the elderly hobbit explained sadly, all the while fingering something in his pocket. "I need a holiday, a very long holiday. And I don't expect that I shall return." Bilbo looked up, a very serious glint in his eyes. "In fact, I mean not to."

~o*o*o*o~

Chase sat cross-legged beside Bilbo and Gandalf on the top of a grassy hill overlooking the Party Field. Bilbo took a long draw on his pipe and blew a perfect smoke ring. Gandalf smiled at the hobbit before puffing out a small smoke ship that sailed through Bilbo's smoke ring.

"Wow," Chase breathed.

Bilbo smiled, chewing on his pipe thoughtfully. "Gandalf, Chase," he sighed. "This will be a night to remember."

**I hope you enjoyed!**

**Oh, and by the way, I think this will happen a year or so before the main events of the Fellowship of the Ring. I think I had originally planned it to be a good few years, but I changed it.**

**Anyways, review please!**


	9. A Night to Remember

**Okay, so here is the second part of the really long chapter I told you about last chapter.**

**In case you are wondering, I think Hope and Philip will appear in the next chapter. I'm not sure yet.**

**Anyway, I do not own anything other than my OC's, though I wish I could have Gandalf's fireworks.**

Chapter 9: A Night to Remember

The party was absolutely magnificent. Brightly colored tents were everywhere, and brilliant lanterns hung in the air. Barrels of ale were stacked as high as Chase was tall, and several wooden tables were groaning under the amount of food piled upon them. Gandalf and his fireworks cart were in the middle of it all, launching the rockets into the air and creating colorful explosions for everyone to enjoy. A band was playing near the front, and several hobbit lads and lasses were dancing merrily.

Frodo was quite happy to see Chase. The young hobbit introduced the ellon to many of his friends and relatives, including Sam, Merry, and Pippin.

Chase was having a grand time. The atmosphere was so joyful one just couldn't help but laugh out loud. The ellon now sat beside Sam, who kept glancing at the dancers every so often, particularly a golden haired hobbit lass Chase could only assume was Rosie Cotton.

Frodo had also noticed this, and the young hobbit sat down beside them. "Go on, Sam," he encouraged. "Ask Rosie for a dance."

Sam shifted nervously in his seat. "I think I'll just have another ale."

"Oh, no you don't!" Chase shouted, shoving a startled Sam into a dancing Rosie's arms. Unfortunately, as he did so, the ellon was caught up in the dancing, and he was swung around by another young hobbit lass. After a few moments, however, Chase found that he actually enjoyed it and continued to dance, much to the amusement of Frodo.

Later, Chase plopped himself beside Gandalf, breathless with laughter. "I see you are enjoying yourself," Gandalf chuckled, smirking slightly.

Chase grinned and nodded happily. Suddenly, a huge explosion rattled the air. A great firework launched into the sky, taking the shape of a great dragon. The fiery thing swooped down upon the Party Field, singing the tops of the tents and causing all the hobbits to run and duck for cover. The firework soared over the nearby pond, and, with a great boom, burst into millions of red and gold showers. The hobbits laughed and clapped, enjoying the spectacle. Gandalf, however, did not look as pleased.

"I assume that wasn't part of the plan," Chase stated, gazing at the wizard. Gandalf curtly nodded his head, standing up and surveying the mass of hobbits.

After a few moments, Chase smiled and gently tapped Gandalf's shoulder. "I think I've found your culprits," he whispered, pointing to two soot-covered hobbits admiring the cheering crowd. A small smile formed on Gandalf's face as he went to reprimand to two hobbits, who were none other than Merry and Pippin. Gandalf dragged the two hobbits by their ears over to where Chase was sitting.

"Chase, if you would please gather the dirty dishes," Gandalf instructed. "I believe these two have some cleaning up to do."

Chase chuckled as he watched Merry and Pippin begin washing the seemingly endless towers of plates. Then he noticed Bilbo climbing up onto a pedestal of barrels. "SPEECH BILBO!" the hobbits began to shout. "SPEECH!"

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins," Bilbo began, "Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots."

Cheers erupted from the crowd at each name. "ProudFEET!" someone in the crowd corrected, much to the amusement of all.

"Today is my One Hundred and Eleventh Birthday!" Bilbo announced.

The hobbits cheered and raised their glasses. "Happy Birthday!"

"Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits," Bilbo continued. "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." Confused silence followed this remark. The hobbits stared around at each other, bewildered. Chase and Gandalf, probably the only two who understood his remark, smirked at each other.

"I, er, I have things to do," Bilbo stuttered, clearly nervous about something. Chase noticed the hobbit reaching for something in his pocket. "I regret to announce this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell." Bilbo seemed to take a step off the platform, but it was never seen. The elderly hobbit just vanished!

Chase shook his head, knowing that this would be coming. Gandalf had immediately stood up after the disappearance, and the wizard was now trying to make his way inconspicuously out of the party, which would have been rather hard if not for the distraction of the many confused hobbits all asking the same question: "How did he do it?"

Chase quietly made his way to Gandalf's side. The two rushed inside Bag-End and stood in the parlor, awaiting the elderly hobbit. Soon enough, Bilbo strolled in, carrying a walking stick and looking quite pleased with himself. "I suppose you think that was terribly clever?" Gandalf inquired.

Bilbo whirled around surprised, but then relaxed upon seeing who it was. "Oh, come on, Gandalf," he chuckled. "Did you see their faces?"

"There are many magic rings in this world, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf reprimanded. "And none of them should be used lightly."

"It was just a bit of fun!" Bilbo reasoned, before sighing. "Oh, you're probably right, as usual. You will keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?"

"Two eyes," Gandalf replied. "As often as I can spare them."

"I'm leaving everything to him," Bilbo continued, beginning to pack his rucksack.

"What about this ring of yours?" Gandalf pressed. "Is that staying too?"

"Yes, yes," Bilbo answered. "It's in an envelope over there on the mantelpiece."

Chase walked over to the shelf to check. The envelope felt surprisingly light, but before he could check for himself, Bilbo spoke up. "No, wait, it's here, in my pocket," the hobbit corrected. "Isn't that odd now? Yet, after all, why not? Why shouldn't I keep it?"

"I think you should leave the ring behind, Bilbo," Gandalf stated. "Is that so hard?"

"Well, no…" Bilbo replied, turning to face Gandalf and Chase, "…and yes. Now it comes to it, I don't feel like parting with it. It's mine! I found it! It came to ME!"

"There's no need to get angry," Gandalf chided.

"Well, if I'm angry it's your fault!" Bilbo retorted, beginning to stroke the ring lovingly. "It's mine. My only…My Precious!"

"Precious?" Chase remarked, worried. "It's been called that before, and not by you!"

Bilbo whirled on the ellon. "What business is it of yours what I do with my own things? And just because you may know what happens in the future does not give you the right to stop me!"

Chase backed up against the wall, startled by the suddenly murderous looking hobbit. Thankfully, Gandalf intervened. "I think you've had that ring quite long enough!"

"You want it for yourself!" Bilbo accused, raising his fists.

"BILBO BAGGINS!" Gandalf thundered, raising himself to full height. The room began to darken as Gandalf's fury filled the room. "Do not take me for some conjuror of cheap tricks! I am not trying to rob you!" The air began to lighten, and the terrifying aura around the gray wizard dissipated. "I am trying to help you," Gandalf continued in a much softer tone.

Bilbo, who had been scared out of his wits, ran over and embraced Gandalf. The wizard kneeled down and put a comforting hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "All these long years we've been friends," Gandalf stated. "Trust me as you once did. Let it go."

Bilbo sighed. "You're right, Gandalf, the ring must go to Frodo." The hobbit swung his rucksack onto his shoulders. "It's late. The road is long. Yes, it is time." The hobbit pushed open the round front door and began to walk out.

"Bilbo," Chase called. "The ring's still in your pocket."

Bilbo smiled sheepishly and took out the ring. Slowly, he let the golden band slide out of his palm and onto the doormat, where it landed with an uncharacteristically solid thump. Bilbo then proceeded to walk outside, looking as though a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"I've thought up an ending for my book," he remarked, turning to face Gandalf and Chase standing on the doorstep. "'And he lived happily ever after to the end of his days'."

"And I'm sure you will, dear friend," Gandalf replied.

Bilbo smiled faintly. "Goodbye, Chase."

"Bye," Chase called, waving. The ellon then walked back into Bag-End to leave Gandalf and Bilbo alone for their farewells. Chase took a seat by the fireplace, unsure of what to do next. Gandalf soon joined him, beginning to puff on his pipe. The two of them stared into the flames, lost in thought. Chase knew what power the ring held and the rings true identity, unlike Gandalf, but that did not keep it off of his mind.

"Bilbo!" a voice called from outside. Frodo burst into Bag-End, searching for his uncle. "Bilbo!" Frodo then saw the wizard and the ellon sitting by the hearth. "He's gone, hasn't he?" the young hobbit asked, walking over to them.

Chase looked up and gave the hobbit a slight nod. "Yeah, he left a while ago."

Frodo sighed. "He talked for so long about leaving. I didn't think he'd really do it." He then turned to face Gandalf, who was still in a world of his own. "Gandalf?"

The wizard looked around, noticing Frodo for the first time. He gazed at what Frodo held out to him. "Ah, Bilbo's ring!" he remarked, smiling. "He's gone to stay with the Elves. He's left you Bag-End, along with all his possessions."

Chase held out the envelope Bilbo had left on the mantelpiece, and Frodo slipped the ring inside. Gandalf sealed the envelope with a red wax stamp. "The ring is yours now," the wizard informed Frodo, handing him the envelope. "Put it somewhere out of sight." He then turned to Chase. "Come, Chase," he instructed. "We must be off."

"Where are you going?" Frodo asked, following Gandalf as the wizard grabbed his things from the hat stand.

"There are some things I must see to," Gandalf answered hurriedly.

"But you've only just arrived!" Frodo exclaimed. "I don't understand."

Chase clasped Frodo's shoulder. "You will one day," he stated. He then walked out to the cart, hopping into the seat. Gandalf soon followed. The wizard rushed into the cart, quickly setting it into motion. The cart jostled violently as Gandalf hurried to Rivendell. Sooner than Chase had expected, the Elven city came into sight.

"I am sorry, Chase," Gandalf apologized as Chase leapt off the cart. "I must be going. I need to talk with Aragorn and Hope, and then I must travel with all speed to Minas Tirith. My questions need answering, and if my suspicions are correct, Frodo will have to leave immediately."

"Immediately?" Chase exclaimed. "Why immediately?" He remembered that in the books, Frodo waited seventeen years before departing.

"Sauron's power has increased rapidly," Gandalf answered. "If Frodo's ring is indeed the One Ring, then we must destroy it as soon as possible."

"But why had Sauron's power increased?" Chase asked, unable to help himself. Things were not at all going according to the book.

Gandalf sighed, seizing the sleeve of Chase's tunic. "Sauron has heard of the Elenmîr's coming. He will extend his shadow until he has captured the information that you hold or destroyed the bearers so they will no longer be able to assist the forces against him." He then turned and mounted his horse, galloping away.

Chase stood frozen in the courtyard, staring at the wizard's retreating backside. Galadriel had been right: the very presence of the Elenmîr was affecting the future. And now Frodo was in more danger than he should be.

**Please Review! And again, thanks to all that have already reviewed! Your comments are really helpful and enjoyable!**


	10. New Faces

**I am so very sorry for the lack of updates. Life has hit me like a brick wall. Literally. Between schoolwork, studying for tests, and all other crazy stuff that happens in my life, I'm so tired that I have actually run into walls more than once.**

**Oh, thanks to all of my reviewers! You make my day!**

**Anyways, here is chapter 10. The middle section (with Barliman Butterbur) was inspired by Darkover's _The Night Before Yule_.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC's.**

Chapter 10: New Faces

Philip grinned as he approached the huge gates of the White City. They were intricately carved with figures of men clad in the armor of Gondor, all welcoming travelers into Minas Tirith.

"Who are you and what is your business in the White City?" a voice called from behind the wall.

"I'm Philip Hughes," Philip answered, "and I live here."

"Ah, Lord Philip!" the voice cried. The great gates slowly moved open, and a guard rushed forward. "Lord Boromir will be pleased to see you."

"I will be pleased to see whom?" Boromir asked as he strolled down the street towards them.

Philip waved cheerily at the son of the Steward. "Hey, Boromir!"

A large smile broke out on Boromir's face. "Philip!"

Philip slid off of his horse as Boromir strode towards him. The son of the Steward pulled Philip into a quick embrace. "I trust your trip to Rivendell was pleasant," Boromir stated.

"It was really nice," Philip replied.

"Boromir, who is this?"

Philip looked behind Boromir. A young man was standing there, an amused smile on his face. He had dark, reddish-brown hair and was clothed in various shades of green and brown.

"Oh, Faramir!" Boromir exclaimed joyfully. "This is Philip. Philip, this is Faramir, my younger brother."

"Ah, so you are the young man Boromir has told me about," Faramir stated. "He says you have quite the skills with a blade."

Philip raised his eyebrows at Boromir in surprise. The son of the Steward just shrugged. Rolling his eyes, Philip turned back to Faramir. "Well, he's still training me," he replied. "Boromir's a great teacher."

"Aye," Faramir agreed. "He was the one who trained me." He then turned to his brother. "Boromir, I am meeting Saeldur and Arthion at the Green Oak. You are welcome to join us, as is Philip."

"We would happily join you," Boromir answered. Faramir grinned, and the three of them began walking down the street.

"Um, so who are Saeldur and Arthion?" Philip inquired, confused.

"They are two of my fellow Rangers and good friends," Faramir answered.

"Rangers?" Philip asked. "I thought they were just in the North."

"A different group of Rangers patrol the forests of Ithilien," Boromir replied. "Faramir is Captain of these Rangers."

Philip's eyes widened. "Wow," he stated. "That's cool! What do you guys do?"

"I believe Saeldur and Arthion can help me explain," Faramir chuckled. He gently pushed open the green door of a large stone building. The inside of the tavern was filled with wooden tables laden with mugs of ale. Philip followed the two brothers to a table occupied by two men dressed in a similar fashion to Faramir. One had hazel-colored hair similar to Boromir's, and the other had dark hair.

"Ah, Faramir, Boromir," the dark-haired one greeted.

"Arthion, so good to see you," Boromir remarked. He then turned to the other man. "Saeldur, how are you?"

"I am well, thank you," Saeldur replied.

The two men then noticed Philip standing quietly next to Boromir. "And who is this?" Saeldur asked.

"This is Philip, a good friend of mine," Boromir introduced. "I believe he is eager to learn about the lives of the Rangers of Ithilien."

Arthion chuckled. "It is quite the life indeed," he replied, turning to face Philip. "We help protect the forest of Ithilien and the city of Osgiliath. 'Tis our duty to fight off any threats to the city."

For the next hour or two, Saeldur and Arthion regaled Philip with tales of their escapades. Philip found it incredibly fascinating. He was rather dismayed when he learned that the Rangers would be departing Minas Tirith the following morning.

Philip sighed as he watched the Rangers ride back to Ithilien. But he wasn't too sad. Something inside of him was telling him that he would see Faramir, Saeldur, and Arthion again.

~o*o*o*o~

Barliman Butterbur gazed around at the empty common room of his inn, The Prancing Pony. It was late, and he was debating whether or not he should close up for the night. Many of his workers had already retired to their homes. But something was nagging at Barliman, telling him that there could be some late traveler needing shelter for the night.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing that a thunderstorm had begun raging outside. Lighting flashed through the sky, silhouetting two figures in the doorframe.

The two strangers stepped into the inn, the door swinging shut behind them. One was shorter and slimmer than the other. Both were hooded in dark cloaks soaked with rain. A sword hung on each of their belts. By the look of their weather-beaten clothes, Barliman could tell that these folks were Rangers. The innkeeper gripped the edge of the counter tightly. He did not like the look of these fellows, and he certainly did not want trouble tonight.

The taller one swiftly walked up to Barliman. "Do you have a room for the night?"

"I do, if you can pay, that is," the innkeeper replied shortly. He glared at the two strangers, a wary look in his eye.

The strangers nodded, and each pulled out a few coins. "Is this enough?" the shorter one asked, gesturing to the small pile of coinage on the counter.

The innkeeper examined the pile. "Yes, that is enough money for a room for two," he replied, scooping the coins off the counter. "Names, please?"

"I am known around here as Strider," the taller one answered.

"I'm Hawkins," the shorter one added, fiddling with the bird-shaped pin on the cloak.

Barliman raised his eyebrows at the strange names, but he did not press them. "Would you two be wanting something to eat?" the innkeeper asked. "We have the best beer outside of the Shire here!"

The two strangers exchanged glances. "I believe some beer would be welcome," the taller one responded, sliding a couple of coins across the counter. The two then pulled back their hoods, revealing their faces.

The tall one was a man, a bit of stubble on his face. The other was a young girl, only about thirteen, in Barliman's eyes. Both had dark hair and piercing gray eyes, so alike that they might have been relatives.

Barliman quickly drew two tankards of beer and handed them to the strangers. After giving him a muffled thanks, the two walked over to a table in the corner of the room, silently drinking.

The innkeeper shook his head, wondering what such a young girl was doing as one of those Rangers. His thoughts were rudely interrupted as the door was unceremoniously thrown open, revealing three people he really did not want to see – Bill Ferny and his two squint-eyed cronies, probably drunk.

"Oi, Butterbur, draw us up some pints!" Bill hollered.

With a low, irritated growl, Barliman drew three pints and slid them across the counter to Ferny and company.

The three drained the tankards with surprising speed. "Another round, Butterbur!" Bill slurred. His two companions guffawed, and now Barliman was sure that the three of them were drunk.

Barliman rubbed his temples, knowing that he would regret doing this. But a customer was a customer, and so he gave the company of three more pints.

"Alright, now that you've had your fill, I'll be wanting some payment," Barliman stated.

"But we don't want to pay, eh boys?" Bill shouted. His two cronies nodded in agreement, smiling maliciously.

"Look, Ferny," Barliman snapped. "Pay for your beers, and leave!"

Bill's face contorted in anger. He sprang out of his seat and faced the innkeeper, seething. His two cronies followed suit, all three advancing on Barliman.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a quiet voice stated from the corner. Hawkins had stood up, sweeping her cloak aside to expose her sword, her hand resting on the hilt. Strider remained seated, but his hand could be seen gripping the hilt of his sword as well. The two had remained quiet through most of the argument, and Barliman had forgotten about them.

Bill Ferny's eyes widened in fear of the Rangers. Quickly, he sped out of the inn, his two companions close behind. Barliman regarded the two Rangers for a moment and then went back behind the counter, smiling slightly. The Rangers were a wild, dangerous lot, but who ever said that danger was always a bad thing?

~o*o*o*o~

Hope stared at the ceiling. The room she and Aragorn had been given was very cozy, and the beds were much more comfortable than the forest floor she had become accustomed to sleeping on in the past few weeks, but she could not sleep. Something was weighing on her mind.

With a sigh, Hope stood up and walked to the window. The rain pounded against the glass, blurring the images outside.

"You should rest," a voice stated. Hope whirled around to see Aragorn standing behind her. "We begin traveling again at first light," he continued.

When Hope did not respond, Aragorn stepped closer to her, a concerned expression on his face. "Is something troubling you?" he asked.

Hope shook her head. "Nothing, it's just…" She turned back to the window, staring down at the rain-soaked street. Hope continued her sentence so quietly that Aragorn could barely discern the words.

"I'm scared."

"Ah," Aragorn stated in understanding. Elrond had informed him of the peril the Elenmîr faced, and the Ranger had offered to protect and train Hope. He comfortingly wrapped an arm around the young girl's shoulder. "Do not fear. The Prancing Pony is a very safe inn. You are safe here."

"But what about after we leave?" Hope asked, clearly worried. "What then?"

"Everything will be fine," Aragorn assured her. Hope just sighed, praying that he was right.

**So I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**If you're wondering about Hope's Ranger name, go ahead and take a guess at where I got it from. There should be enough information in previous chapters, but if not, I believe a big hint will be dropped in the next chapter.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	11. Only the Beginning of Adventure

**Hello everyone! **

**Okay, so for the next few chapters, this will focus on Hope and Aragorn's adventures.**

**I also wanted to know what you (yes, you, the reader) thought about having pairings within the Elenmîr (example: Chase/Fern). Tell me! If you want, you can even suggest pairings you would like. NOTE: I will not accept slash pairings.**

**Anyways, on with the chapter! I still do not own any of this except for my OC's, no matter how much I really want to.**

Chapter 11: Only the Beginning of Adventure

Hope was bleeding.

The orc attack had surprised them, and neither she nor Aragorn had escaped without injury. A large gash ran along Hope's arm, and Aragorn's forearm was bloody. Thankfully, neither wound was poisoned.

With a sigh, Hope finished bandaging her arm and moved closer to the small campfire Aragorn had kindled. She lay down on her back, one hand upon her sword hilt, the other fiddling with the pin of the grey cloak she wore. It was quite unusual; unlike most of the Dúnedain's silver star brooches, hers was shaped like a hawk. It somehow felt familiar to her, but she couldn't place it.

Aragorn gazed pensively at the young girl apparently asleep on the forest floor. She, like him, carried the burden of destiny, a weight neither wanted to carry. Beside him, Roheryn and Alagos, the bay steed of Hope, stood in the trees, munching on the forest grass and whinnying in content.

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats resonated through the forest. Hope leapt to her feet, loosing her sword in her sheath. Aragorn's hand flew to the hilt of his sword.

A figure on horseback rode into the small clearing. He was clad in gray robes, a faded blue hat upon his head and a gnarled wooden staff in his hand. "Gandalf," Aragorn greeted, relaxing his grip on his sword.

"Aragorn, Hope," the wizard replied, dismounting. "I have urgent matters to speak of."

"What is it?" Hope asked, her brow creasing with worry.

"I suspect that the ring my friend the hobbit Bilbo Baggins found on his adventure so long ago is indeed the One Ring of Power," Gandalf explained.

"Isildur's Bane?" Aragorn gasped. "How can you be certain?"

"There is one creature who may add to our knowledge," Gandalf continued. "The creature known as Gollum held the ring before Bilbo. He may give us some of the answers we seek." The wizard swiftly mounted his horse again. "Aragorn, Hope, you must find Gollum as swiftly as possible. Bring him to Mirkwood when you have caught him. I, meanwhile, ride to Gondor with all speed. Hopefully the old records will hold some of the answers I seek." With that, Gandalf galloped away into the trees.

The two Rangers were silent for a moment. Eventually, Aragorn spoke. "Where shall we begin our quest?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Hope answered honestly. "Gollum is a speedy creature. He can easily and quickly move from one place to the next." She paused for a moment, deep in thought. "You know, Fern might know where we may be able to find Gollum. I think that out of all the Elenmîr, she knows the most."

"Fern has returned to Mirkwood, correct?" Aragorn asked.

"Yep."

"Then we begin our journey to Mirkwood at dawn," Aragorn continued. "We must hasten. Gandalf is urgent."

Hope nodded, leaning back against a tree trunk with her eyes closed. _Why didn't you tell Gandalf about the Ring?_ a voice asked inside her head.

_I couldn't tell him_, Hope replied. _It might change the future._

_But you might have saved him a lot of time_, the voice reasoned.

_Finding Gollum is an important event of the story_, Hope retorted. _I can't just let it not happen. It would affect the future._

_But it would change the future for the better_, the voice continued. _Gandalf wouldn't be running around searching for answers. Frodo could leave before the wraiths arrive in the Shire. _

_Look_, Hope snapped, _I can't just go and change the future._

_But you're already changing it_, the voice stated flatly.

Hope let out a frustrated sigh. _Well, it's too late now._ And with that final thought, she drifted off into sleep.

~o*o*o*o~

For several days the two Rangers rode across the plains of Eriador. Soon, a huge range of mountains capped with snow towered over them.

"The Misty Mountains?" Hope asked.

Aragorn nodded. "Indeed."

"And we're going to have to cross them, right?" Hope continued unenthusiastically.

The elder Ranger gave her a quick nod and then spurred Roheryn forward.

Hope slumped in her saddle. "Oh, this is going to be great."

~o*o*o*o~

The Misty Mountains were unforgiving. Roheryn and Alagos trudged through thick snowdrifts, visibly struggling. Aragorn and Hope had to stop several times to give the horses some time to rest.

The weather had not been too kind, either. It was unbearably cold, and sometimes snowstorms would flurry around the mountains. An especially fierce blizzard raged outside as Aragorn and Hope rested in a cave, unable to travel in such conditions. They could not kindle a fire, and so the two Rangers just lay there, watching the snowflakes rush past the hollow in the mountainside.

Aragorn stared about the cave, gazing at the jagged gray rocks. Quietly, the Ranger began to sing.

"_Tinúviel elvanui_

_Elleth alfirin edhelhael_

_O hon ring finnil fuinui_

_A renc gelebrin thiliol._"

The melody was soft and slow, as was the way with all Elvish songs. Hope smiled as she listened. "Is that the Lay of Lúthien?" she asked.

"Indeed," Aragorn replied.

"It's a beautiful song," Hope commented. "Can you teach it to me?"

Aragorn nodded. "I believe Elladan and Elrohir taught you the Elvish language during your stay at Rivendell, correct?"

"I only know some of it," Hope responded. "I'm still learn-"

Hope was cut off by the sound of rumbling above them. The very ground began to shake, and piles of snow began falling down near the cave's mouth. "What in the…"

"It's an avalanche!" Aragorn cried, springing onto Roheryn. "We must move!"

Hope nodded and leapt onto Alagos, spurring him into a gallop. The bay stallion cantered after Roheryn, tearing through snowdrifts as the thundering of the torrent of snow drew nearer.

Suddenly, the avalanche was upon them. Huge waves of ice swallowed them, pulling both horse and rider down. Roheryn burst out of the snow, neighing frantically. Aragorn clung on to the reins as the chestnut stallion fought the rush of snow.

With all speed, Aragorn galloped down the slope. He could hardly see through the flurry of snow and ice. "Hope!" he cried, unable to locate the young Ranger in the snow. "Hope!"

~o*o*o*o~

Alagos whinnied in terror as the wave of snow engulfed them. Hope felt her body collide with something hard, and then…nothingness.

**I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry it was a bit short.**

**Please Review! Tell me about the whole pairing idea (see top).**


	12. Mountains, Forests, and Plans

**Hello everybody! Sorry I haven't updated. We had testing week at my school (which is never fun) and I was buried under a bunch of review work from my teachers.**

**Oh, and PenFreak10, SoccerGirl4Life30, and AuroraStarfire, _hannon le_ (thank you) for reviewing.**

**Also, I have decided that there will be OC/OC pairings in this story, but as to whom they will be and how many, you will just have to wait and see. But you can tell me who you think should be paired together.**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OC's. Oh, and a new character is joining us today!**

Chapter 12: Mountains, Forests, and Plans

Hope slowly awoke, blinking in the flurries of snow. The avalanche had ceased, but the snowstorm had worsened. The skies were dark with clouds, and occasional lightning bolts flashed across the heavens. The young Ranger found herself half-buried in the snow, and not a living being was in sight.

Groaning, Hope pushed herself out of the snow, checking for injuries. She bore several cuts and abrasions from her fall into the ice, but was otherwise uninjured.

Hope drew her gray cloak around her, attempting to see through the thick blizzard surrounding her. "Aragorn!" she called out into the wind. No response.

With a sigh, Hope pulled her hood up and began trudging through the snow. Worry and fear welled inside of her, threatening to spill out into tears. She was lost, with no way of seeing where she was headed due to the blanket of white surrounding her. Her body ached with pain, and the cold was nearly unbearable. Hope racked her brain for any piece of knowledge or training that could help her, but Aragorn had never expected a situation like this to occur, and therefore he had never trained her for this.

Suddenly, Hope froze. Her hand flew to her sword hilt as she gazed warily around the area. The soft, unmistakable sound of hooves echoed faintly though the howling wind. She was not alone on the mountain.

In an instant, Hope whirled around, her blade crossing with another's. The stranger was also hooded, and quite a bit bigger than she. The two swung at each other again, but the swordsmen seemed to almost match each other's movements perfectly. The clashing of swords rang out on the mountainside as the two dueled fiercely. But Hope, weakened from her fall, slowly began to tire, and eventually she stumbled to the ground, her hood slipping off.

The stranger held his sword to Hope's neck, the cold blade tickling her skin. But then, much to Hope's surprise, the stranger lowered his blade. "Hope?" he asked incredulously.

Lighting ripped through the sky, illuminating the stranger's familiar gray eyes for just a moment. Hope scrambled to her feet. "Aragorn?"

A relieved smile broke out on Aragorn's face as the Ranger pulled Hope into an embrace. Hope could just make out the shapes of Alagos and Roheryn behind him.

"When Alagos returned without a rider, I grew worried," Aragorn stated.

"The avalanche collided into us. I fell off Alagos and into the snow," Hope informed him. "Thankfully, I'm not seriously injured."

Aragorn nodded, walking over to Roheryn. "Come, we must not stay in this blizzard for too long." The elder Ranger swung onto the chestnut stallion while Hope mounted Alagos with slightly less grace.

The two rode on through the storm, eventually nearing the base of the mountain where the blizzard was not as strong. A huge mass of dark green trees spread out before them.

Aragorn gazed out at the trees, whispering the name of the forest so quietly that Hope could barely discern it.

"Mirkwood."

~o*o*o*o~

Fern sat at a desk in the library, her bright green eyes roving over the Elvish texts. The room was immense, filled with dark wooden shelves teeming with old parchment scrolls and books. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls, illuminated by the soft sunlight filtering through the trees.

The young elleth sighed and gazed about the room. The library was an absolutely incredible place to her. In America, she had always loved reading, and that was no different here. Fern especially loved the elegant, flowing Elvish script transcribed in the volumes.

"Pardon me, Fern."

Fern turned around to see a brown-haired ellon standing in the doorway of the vast room. He was rather young for an elf, and he did not appear to be any older that Fern. "Yes, Castien?" Fern greeted.

"There is someone here who wishes to speak with you," Castien informed her. "A young Ranger by the name of Hope."

Fern raised her eyebrows, recognizing the name. "Oh yeah, I remember her. Is she with you right now?"

Castien nodded, stepping aside. Hope emerged from behind him, walking into the library. Upon seeing the young Ranger, Fern gasped.

"Hope, what in the world happened to you?"

Hope's dark hair was pulled into a messy braid resting on the back of her neck. The leather jerkin over her dark green tunic was stained with mud, and the gray cloak she wore was battered and worn. Her black pants and brown leather boots did not seem to have fared any better. A dark cloth bandage wrapped around the upper arm of the long, green leather coat she wore. Her face was marred with several minor cuts.

"Orc attack, avalanche, a whole bunch of snow..." Hope listed off. "Don't really want to talk about it." The Ranger sat down in front of Fern. "Look, I need your help. Gandalf wants us to find Gollum, and he wants us to do it fast. I don't remember where Aragorn found Gollum in the books, and so I was wondering if you knew."

"Well, I do remember where Aragorn found Gollum," Fern stated. "But I don't know if it would be a good idea to tell you."

"And why not?" Hope asked, slightly irritated.

"It could affect the future!" Fern retorted. "If I told you, the whole chain of events could get mixed up!"

"Fern, you're being paranoid," Hope chided. "Trust me, I already thought about that. This is the best way for us to aid them without changing too much."

"But-" Fern began, but she was cut off by a glare from Hope. "Oh, alright, fine, I'll tell you," she finally agreed, fishing out a map from beneath the piles of books.

"There," she announced, pointing to a small dark spot on the map. Hope read the label.

"The Dead Marshes?" she exclaimed.

"Yep," Fern replied. "That's where Gollum should be."

Hope nodded and began walking out of the library. "_Hannon le, mellon nin_."

Fern's eyes widened at the Ranger's use of Elvish. "You speak Sindarin?"

"A little," Hope answered, smiling slightly. "Hopefully, Aragorn will be able to teach me more." A brief moment of silence passed between the two. Hope turned back towards the door, adjusting the strap of her quiver. "Well, I guess I'm off then." And with that, Hope strode out of the room.

"Stay safe, _mellon nin_," Fern murmured.

~o*o*o*o~

A few moments after Hope had left, Castien strolled into the library. Fern looked up from the scroll she was reading at the sound of his approaching. "Ah, Castien!" Fern exclaimed, getting to her feet. Over the past couple of months, the elleth had come to know the ellon quite well. The two enjoyed each other's company very much.

"Fern, would you like to accompany me to the gardens?" Castien asked.

"Of course," Fern replied, rising from her seat behind the desk. Together, the two strolled into the gardens. Lush trees surrounded them, and despite it being in the middle of winter, many flowers were in bloom, sprinkling the green leaves with color.

"It is beautiful," Castien sighed, taking a seat on a bench.

"Indeed," Fern agreed, joining the ellon on the bench.

A few moments of silence passed between the two. Finally, Castien spoke. "I am quite glad that you returned to Mirkwood after your trip to Imladris," he stated. "Before you came, there were seldom any Elves my age to be with."

"Well, I'm glad I met you," Fern replied. Smiles broke out on both of their faces as they continued to talk. And for those few moments, Fern did not worry about what the future would bring for her and her fellow Elenmîr.

~o*o*o*o~

Ėowyn strode through the halls of Meduseld. Night had fallen, and the pale moonlight filtered in though the small windows. Sadly, her uncle's condition had worsened over the past few months, and no one could do anything-

Her thoughts were cut short as a familiar venom-laced voice rang out from the room nearby. "We must hurry. He is growing impatient with me."

"Yes, sir," a gruff voice replied. Ėowyn recognized that voice as the voice that belonged to the leader of Wormtongue's lackeys, who had about as much favor in the Golden Hall as Wormtongue did himself.

"But may I ask, sir, why does he want this girl?" the leader inquired.

"The young girl carries information that he wishes to obtain," Wormtongue informed him. "The orange crystal star necklace she wears also contains a power unknown to most men. He is becoming desperate. The ambush on one of the other Star-Children failed. We must take her, and quickly."

Ėowyn froze at the last statement as she realized the full extent of Wormtongue's plan. Without listening to anymore, the White Lady of Rohan hurried down the halls, formulating a plan to save her friend.

**Uh-oh, Wormtongue has evil plans!**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Please Review!**


	13. The Hunt

**Hey, everybody! I'm back!**

**So, this chapter is kind of short, but it covers two key events in the story. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OC's.**

Chapter 13: The Hunt

Hunter found herself being roughly shaken awake. "Whoa, hey, what's…"

"Shhh," Ėowyn shushed, gently tossing her a bundle of clothes. "Hurry, change. We must be swift."

"But what's going on?" Hunter asked, groggily rubbing her eyes. The room was still dark, and the moon had just risen.

"I will explain later," Ėowyn promised. "But you must hurry. Go!"

Too sleepy to object, Hunter trudged behind a changing screen. After a few moments, she reemerged, dressed in a red tunic, dark brown breeches, black riding boots, and a dark green cloak. "Where did you get these?" Hunter inquired, gazing down at her adornment.

"From me."

Théodred stepped into the doorway, a grave expression on his face. "Those were some of my older clothes, from when I was younger." He then turned to face Ėowyn. "I prepared the saddlebags. Windstorm is waiting in the stables."

"Okay, what is going on?" Hunter whispered, exasperated.

"I overheard Wormtongue and his followers planning to kidnap you," Ėowyn informed her. "You must leave Rohan immediately."

"Indeed," Théodred agreed. "Ėowyn told me of Wormtongue's plan, and I agreed to help. Unfortunately, we could not tell Ėomer, for he would strangle Wormtongue without a second thought."

Hunter let out a weak chuckle at the idea of Ėomer strangling Wormtongue, but it soon died on her lips. A feeling of dread filled her. _Wormtongue works for Saruman_, she recalled. _So Saruman must want me. But why?_ The answer came to her as clear as day. _He wants the information the Elenmîr have! He wants to know what happens so he can change it!_

"Come now, we must move," Ėowyn instructed. "And pull up your hood. It would do no good to have you be recognized."

Hunter nodded, following Ėowyn's instructions and belting a short sword around her waist. The company of three dashed silently through the halls of Meduseld, the very air around them thick with tension. Finally, they burst out of the Golden Hall and into the cold night air.

"Halt!"

Ėowyn, Théodred, and Hunter tensed as one of Wormtongue's men approached them, a suspicious expression on his face. "What are you three doing out so late?" the guard sneered.

Hunter pulled her hood farther down, hoping the man would not recognize her. Ėowyn seemed to be at a loss for words, gripping Hunter's shoulder like a vice. Théodred drew a deep breath and faced the guard.

"We were just taking one of the newest recruits out for some night riding lessons," the prince lied smoothly, staring icily at the man. "I do not believe there is anything wrong with that, am I correct?"

The guard blanched beneath the prince of Rohan's piercing gaze. "O-of course, your majesty. I'll be getting out of your way now." The guard then sprinted off, nearly tripping himself in the process.

"Wow," whispered Hunter. "You know, Théodred, you can be quite scary at times."

Théodred cracked a small smile as they continued their path to the stables. The streets of Edoras were silent, save for the occasional bird or cricket.

An eerie quiet also rested upon the stables, broken only by the soft breathing of the sleeping horses. At the far end of the rows stood Windstorm, saddled and pawing at the straw covered ground.

"Well," Hunter sighed, standing beside Windstorm. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Stay safe, Hunter," Théodred stated.

Hunter nodded her head before turning to Ėowyn. The two had become extremely close over the past few months and were nearly inseparable. "I'm going to miss you," Hunter whispered.

Ėowyn gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Hunter's face. "We shall see each other again," she reassured her. "Rohan is your home. One day, you will return."

"I promise I'll come back," Hunter swore, mounting Windstorm. "You'll explain to Ėomer what happened, right?"

"We shall," Théodred replied. "Though I do not think he will be very pleased."

"I doubt it," Hunter agreed, a smile quickly flitting across her face before resuming a grim expression.

Hunter drew a deep breath. "Goodbye." She gave Windstorm a firm kick, and both horse and rider galloped out of the stables and into the distance.

~o*o*o*o~

Night had fallen over the Dead Marshes. Hope crouched upon the soggy ground, surveying the surrounding fen for any sign of movement. It was their third day in the marshes now, and not a sign of Gollum had been found save for a few tracks.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Hope straightened, watching as a small, whitish creature leapt out from behind a rock and scampered over to a bush.

The younger Ranger turned to face Aragorn, who sat beside her. Aragorn nodded his head, having also noticed the movement. Silently, the two Rangers crept towards the bush. Beneath the leaves, muttering could be heard.

"They wants us, yessss, precious. But we hide from them, nasty, dirty orcs," a hissing voice stated. In a swift motion, Aragorn plunged his hand into the bush, trying to seize the creature. Suddenly, a thin, white hand shot out of the leaves, hitting Aragorn squarely in the jaw. Gollum sprang out of the bush, scrambling away. Hope dove at him, but Gollum darted out of the way, causing Hope to land face-first in the quagmire.

Aragorn rubbed the bruise on his jaw and helped Hope to her feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Hope replied. "But Gollum got away."

"He cannot have gone too far," Aragorn stated. "Hope, search the northern part of the marshes. I shall search the west. Give a shout if you catch him."

Hope nodded and sprinted towards the north. She overturned every stone and peered into every bush, but there was no sign of Gollum anywhere. Then, a familiar hissing voice was heard near her.

"What do they want with ussss, precioussss?" Hope whirled around to see Gollum crouching a few yards away, his back facing her. Quietly, Hope crept behind him, before quickly seizing Gollum.

Immediately, Gollum lashed out. He kicked and punched at Hope, his bony fists and feet making contact with her chest. "Why do they hunt usss, preciousss?" Gollum whined. "Why must they catch usss? Why can't they just leave us alone, _gollum_, _gollum_."

At these words, Hope froze, realizing exactly what Gollum had been going through. The young Ranger loosened her hold on Gollum, enough so that the creature could wriggle out of her grasp. Gollum began scampering away, but Aragorn intervened, seizing Gollum and tying a rope securely around him.

"Are you injured?" Aragorn asked, noticing the bruises on Hope's face.

"I'm just a little bruised, that's all," Hope stated. Aragorn nodded before beginning to drag a screaming and kicking Gollum to their camp. Once they had arrived, Aragorn proceeded to tie Gollum to a rock.

"Aragorn, why do you treat him so harshly?" Hope asked.

Aragorn finished securing Gollum to the heavy stone. "Hope, he is a foul creature," he stated, pausing for a moment. "Why do you pity him?"

"Why?" Hope retorted. "Why do I pity him? He is hunted for the information he holds! He is just like me, except that he doesn't have someone like you to protect him!"

"I do not understand-" Aragorn started, but Hope cut him off.

"Of course you don't understand!" she nearly shouted. "You're not the one being hunted!" And with that, Hope stormed away to the opposite side of the camp near Gollum.

"Girlses is like usss," Gollum whispered. "Girlses is hunted by nasty, stinking orcs too."

"Yes, Gollum," Hope replied. "I am."

**So there you have it, Chapter 13.**

**Please Review!**


	14. A Shadow Haunts Your Path

**Alright, I'm back everybody! And it's almost summertime! Yay!**

**So anyways, sorry about the long wait. I had finals and a bunch of other projects to do. But now it's pretty much over, so hopefully I can update more.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, or anything else except my OCs and any of their belongings.**

**Okay, so enough with my rambling. Here is the next chapter!**

Chapter 14: A Shadow Haunts Your Path

Windstorm's hooves thundered across the ground. It had been a few weeks since Hunter had left Edoras, and she had hardly ever stopped riding. The young girl reached back into one of her saddlebags and pulled out the small map Théodred had packed for her. It did not cover much area of Middle-Earth, only the lands of Rohan and Gondor, but it provided her with enough information to help her chart a path away from Isengard and Fangorn Forest.

But she had just left the boundaries of the map. Hunter had no clue where she would be traveling now.

A few more days passed, and Hunter found herself in a forest. The trees seemed unnaturally tall and emitted a soft silver glow, and even though she was sure she had never been here before, the woods seemed incredibly familiar.

Suddenly, Windstorm snorted and stumbled back as an arrow whizzed past his nose, missing it by a hair's breadth. "Whoa, boy!" Hunter exclaimed. "What was that?"

Another arrow flew past them, this one nearly striking Hunter. Both horse and girl stared around to see themselves surrounded by several arrow points. "Who are you, and what is your business in the woods of Lothlórien?" a voice asked forcefully. A golden-haired elf stepped out of the circle, his bow trained on Hunter's chest.

"Um," Hunter began, slightly startled and fearful of the arrows. "My name is Hunter Malbrooks of Rohan, and, well, I'm kind of lost."

"Lady Hunter, the bearer of the Anorgîl?" the elf asked incredulously.

Hunter nodded her head. "Indeed. There was…erm, trouble in Rohan. I was forced to leave."

"My apologies, Lady Hunter," the elf replied, motioning for the others to lower their bows. "I am Haldir. I-" Haldir stopped suddenly, as if another voice was speaking to him. "Ah," he finally spoke. "It appears that the Lady Galadriel wishes to speak with you."

Haldir set off at a face pace through the woods, Hunter following warily on horseback. It was not too long before they entered a glade of huge silver trees with platforms and houses arranged upon them. Everything, even the Elves passing them by, seemed to glow with a faint radiance.

Hunter was led to the base of what seemed to be the largest tree, a delicately wrought silver staircase winding up to the heavens. One of the other Elves gently took Windstorm's reins and led the stallion away as Hunter followed Haldir up the stairs.

At the top of the tree rested a white platform with walls seemingly made from the branches of the tree enclosing it. In the middle of the terrace stood the Lady Galadriel, just as elegant and mysterious as when Hunter had first met her so many months ago.

"Ah, thank you, Haldir," Galadriel nodded. Haldier bowed and exited the terrace. The great elleth turned to Hunter. "Greetings, Hunter. I have heard of the troubles you have faced in Rohan." A sheepish smile flashed across Hunter's face. "Do not worry over it, for it was not your doing," Galadriel reassured her. "Now, you must rest. Your journey has been difficult, and you are surely weary."

Hunter nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Lady Galdriel."

~o*o*o*o~

That night, Galadriel gazed out from her balcony, staring out at the stars. _A shadow haunts the paths of the Elenmîr_, she thought. _They are in more danger than I predicted._

_Indeed_, Elrond's voice replied in her mind. _And from what you have told me, it seems that Sauron is not the only one who seeks the Elenmîr._

A few moments of silence passed between the two Elves. Eventually, Elrond spoke again. _Send Hunter to Imladris_, he suggested. _The road is well-protected, and Rivendell has always been a safe haven for its inhabitants._

Galadriel contemplated the idea for a moment. _That seems to be the best choice_, she finally answered. _I do not wish to say it, but Lothlórien is too close to the shadow to be safe for the Elenmîr now. I will send Hunter as soon as she is ready._

~o*o*o*o~

Unable to sleep, Hunter stood up from the bed she had been given. The stars twinkled in the sky above her as she wandered among the trees. Eventually, she came to a clearing in the dense woods. A small waterfall gurgled behind a simple shallow silver basin upon a pedestal. Light reflected off the water in a mesmerizing dance, drawing Hunter closer.

_This is the Mirror of Galadriel_, a small voice in the back of her head whispered. Hunter could not tell if it was her own or another's, but it did not matter to her.

_Do you dare gaze into the Mirror?_ the voice asked. _You may see great things, terrible things, things that have yet to pass. _

One small part of her willed her to return back to her bed, but the draw of the Mirror was too strong. Hunter approached the basin, gazing into the water. At first, she could see nothing but the reflection of the night sky, but soon, the water rippled, and visions appeared.

Fern stood in the middle of a dark, cobweb-filled chamber. Orcs swarmed around her, but she did not move. Her limbs seemed to be locked in place by fear, her breathing becoming fast-paced. A loud roar was heard, and Hunter wanted to shout out to her, push her out of the battle, but before she could make a sound, the water clouded, the scene shifting.

A forest glen was pictured, the ground covered with the dark shapes of dead bodies. A dark-haired figure leaned against a tree, two arrows protruding from the chest. Hunter at first thought it might have been Boromir (she remembered that event of the story quite clearly), but the figure was too small and thin for a man of his stature. But before she could ponder more on the figure's identity, the image changed once more.

The scene of a stony riverbank was littered with dead bodies, most of them in the garb of Rohan. Hunter's mouth gaped open in horror as she gazed down at one of the faces, the face of Théodred.

And once more, a new vision appeared. A limp body floated down a rushing river. Hunter seemed too high up to make out any distinctive features, but she could see the characteristic dark hair and worn clothes of one of the Rangers of the North…

Many other images swirled by, visions of everyone she knew near death or in danger. Finally, the water settled on one scene. It was a dreary brown battlefield, and war waged on around her. Hunter gasped as the vision continued. It was her dream, the dream she had the day she entered Middle-Earth, except now she knew who stood next to her on the battlefield: Ėowyn. The two fought back to back, facing the black-robed figure. But before the figure could swing at them, Hunter wrenched herself from the Mirror, unwilling to see what would happen next.

"The Mirror of Galadriel can show one many troubling visions," a voice remarked. Hunter looked up to see Galadriel gazing at her, a knowing look upon her face.

"Will any of those things come true?" Hunter managed to ask, a lump of fear forming in her throat.

"No one knows until the time comes," Galadriel replied. "But one thing is certain: a shadow haunts the footsteps of you and the other Elenmîr, and it will not stop pursuing you until it has consumed both you and those close to you."

Hunter's eyes widened. "Then they have to be warned!"

Galadriel nodded. "Indeed. Lord Elrond has advised that you should seek safety in Rivendell. If you meet any of the other Elenmîr, you must warn them."

"I can leave tomorrow," Hunter stated.

"Very well," Galadriel responded. "Now, you should seek rest. It is a long ride to Rivendell."

~o*o*o*o~

Hope rode swiftly upon Alagos, Gollum bouncing along in front of her. She was still cross with Aragorn and only spoke to him when necessary. He did not understand the way she felt, always being pursued, never being able to completely conceal her identity like he was able to.

Aragorn abruptly stopped galloping, staring warily at the surrounding trees. A great clamor could be heard quite near to them, followed by a deep, piercing horn call and the loud, throaty shouts of what could only be orcs.

Hope tensed in the saddle, gripping the reins tightly. "Hurry!" Aragorn shouted, cantering at full speed on Roheryn.

"_Noro lim, Alagos!_" Hope commanded, utilizing the Elvish Aragorn had taught her. Without delay, the bay stallion galloped after Roheryn, the two horses running rapidly through the trees.

Suddenly, a black-feathered arrow whizzed by Hope, embedding itself in a nearby tree. Hope chanced a glance behind her and saw that the orcs were closer to them than they believed. "Aragorn!" she cried, catching the elder Ranger's attention.

"Keep riding!" Aragorn replied. "Do not let them capture you or Gollum!"

Hope nodded, spurring Alagos into an ever faster run. More arrows flew past them, jutting up from the ground like needles in a pincushion. "Hold on, Gollum," Hope muttered, leaning forward.

Pain suddenly arced through Hope's back as she felt an arrowhead pierce her flesh. Biting back a cry, she urged Alagos to go faster. Another arrow embedded itself in her shoulder, causing her grip on the reins to slacken. _Please let us be near the Elves_, she prayed.

As if in answer, the glade was soon filled with the battlecries of the Wood-Elves, firing their own arrows at the oncoming orcs. Hope galloped past them to the gates of the city. Aragorn had already arrived, a look of worry on his face. The world surrounding Hope began to fill with haze, and she vaguely remembered falling out of the saddle before all went dark.

**Cliffhanger!**

**So this chapter was quite ominous in my opinion. Tell me what you think. Please review!**

**FYI: _Noro lim, Alagos! = Ride fast, Alagos!_**


	15. Change

**Hello readers! Sorry about the long wait, I was on vacation and nowhere near my computer. But now I'm back home, and hopefully the updates will become more frequent. **

**This is again one of the shorter chapters, but I hope that the next few ones will be longer. This is also another filler chapter, right before we get into the real plot of the story.**

**Also, a reply to Nia's review: Yes, a lot of people do not want the Elenmîr paired within the group, but as of right now, there is too much of an age difference for them to be properly paired with any of the canon characters. But I will take Elladan/OC into consideration for later…**

**Disclaimer: I own only my OCs.**

Chapter 15: Change

Hope's eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in her surroundings. She found that she lay on her front on a downy bed. The room was dimly lit, the walls made of gray stone. Her back and shoulder ached terribly. Groaning, Hope gently pushed herself up, distantly recalling the reason why she was as she had found herself.

"It's good to see you awake again," a voice remarked. "You've been asleep for quite some time."

Hope turned to see a familiar gray wizard standing in the doorway of the room, a smile on his aged face. "Gandalf!" she exclaimed.

"It is indeed I," the wizard replied, striding to her bedside. "You are in one of the healing rooms in the palace of Mirkwood," Gandalf informed her, answering the silent question etched on her face. "Thankfully, you only suffered two minor arrow wounds, nothing more."

"Hope!" another voice called from the entranceway. A familiar Ranger rushed over to her, wearing a relieved smile on his worn face.

"Aragorn!" Hope grinned at the sight of her friend. "Are you alright?"

"I received no injury," Aragorn replied. "I am glad you are healing, _mellon nin_."

"I cannot thank you enough for finding Gollum and bringing him here," Gandalf stated. "It was a perilous task, and completing it will help our cause greatly." The Wizard turned and began walking towards the door. "If you will excuse me, Hope, I have some important matters to attend to."

Gandalf exited the room, leaving Hope and Aragorn alone in the room in an awkward silence. Eventually, Aragorn spoke. "I believe I understand you now." Hope cocked her head quizzically to the side. "What you said to me while we were in the Marshes about being hunted, I understand now," the elder Ranger clarified. "A messenger came from Rivendell yesterday. Hunter has been forced to flee from Rohan. She arrived there with a message for the other Elenmîr: 'A shadow haunts your paths. You must be careful.' I see now just how deep the danger you five are in. I am sorry I did not see it sooner."

"It is fine, Aragorn," Hope replied. "I should apologize for becoming so angry with you." She sighed. "I suppose we both have things we are sorry for."

Aragorn chuckled. "It is in the past now. I would not dwell on it."

~o*o*o*o~

Fern paced in the garden, mulling over the events of the past few days. The message from Hunter deeply worried her, and it did not help that the orcs were closing in on Mirkwood.

"Fern."

The elleth whirled around to see Castien striding into the garden, holding a long item wrapped in cloth. "What is it, Castien?"

"I want you to have this," he stated, folding back the cloth.

Fern gasped as he revealed a beautiful chestnut bow and a dark green quiver full with skillfully fletched arrows. "But, I do not know how to use them that well!"

"I will train you more," Castien replied. "I heard the message from Rivendell, and it fills me with concern. I want to make sure that you can defend yourself out there when there is no one else to protect you, _meleth nin_."

It took Fern a few moments to register what he had said. "_Meleth nin_? Castien, do you truly mean that?"

Castien smiled softly before gently kissing Fern on the lips. "Does that answer your question?" he asked. "From the moment I first met you, you have held a special place in my heart. At first it was just as a good friend, but it soon became more." He hesitated for a moment, before adding, "_Le mellon_, Fern."

A grin spread across Fern's face. "_Le mellon, _Castien," she replied. "I will gladly have you train me."

Castien laughed lightly. "Come, then. We begin now."

~o*o*o*o~

The next few days in Mirkwood passed without much trouble. Hope was healing well, and she was soon declared fit for travel again. Under the guide of Castien, Fern became proficient with the bow and arrow. And perhaps the best piece of news was that Gandalf finally succeeded at extorting some incredibly useful information out of Gollum.

"Gollum was captured and tortured by Sauron," Gandalf revealed to Aragorn and Hope (Well, Aragorn mostly. Hope already knew this.) one night. "Strangely enough, he was freed, but not before he revealed the bearer of the Ring and where he was to be found." The Wizard shook his head. "Frodo is in grave danger. I will send him on his way as soon as I can. As he journeys, I must travel elsewhere to see if I can gain more information. Hopefully, we will meet in the town of Bree." Gandalf sighed turning to the two Rangers. "But if we do not, you two need to lead him to Rivendell."

Aragorn nodded, accepting the task. "When do we leave?"

"We depart at dawn's first light tomorrow morning," Gandalf answered. "We shall stop at Rivendell along the way. I must discuss these matters with Master Elrond."

"We shall see you in the morning then, Gandalf," Hope stated. Despite her calm demeanor, inside, she was burning with fear. She knew what troubles occurred along Frodo's journey, and she could do nothing to prevent them.

~o*o*o*o~

Chase stood in the training range, practicing his archery. Though his mind was focused on the target, he could not help but worry about Hope, Fern, and Philip. He also could not shake the urge inside of him to do something to help them. They were like a team to him, Middle-Earth's emergency force if you will. The five of them needed to help each other and the friends they had made here. His initial standing on the first day the Elenmîr had changed. Chase resolved to help the Fellowship and Middle-Earth's inhabitants as much as he could until he died or departed for the Undying Lands. He hoped for the latter.

With that final thought, the young ellon sent an arrow straight into the bull's-eye of a target, where a cluster of arrows were already embedded. "That was an excellent shot, _mellon nin_," a familiar voice stated from the shadows.

"Elladan!" Chase exclaimed, putting away his bow.

The elder ellon chuckled, taking a seat on a stone bench along the side of the training area. "You shoot almost as well as Erynion did."

Chase walked over to Elladan, his interest perking up at the mention of the first Duingîl's name. "You knew him?"

"Indeed," Elladan answered. "He was a great friend and a courageous warrior." He paused for a moment, deep in thought. "I also knew Feredir, Fern's ancestor, and Eradan, the ancestor of Hope."

Chase pondered over what he had said. "What's it like?" he finally asked. "What's it like being immortal?"

Elladan sighed. "It is a gift and a curse. Those of Elven blood are not easily taken ill or injured, which is an advantage in battle. Yet when you befriend those of the line of Men, you must go through the pain of eventually losing them to death."

A rather gloomy silence settled over the pair. It was an inevitable thing, death, yet neither wanted it to happen, to take their friends away from them. Suddenly, what seemed like a perfect copy of Elladan dashed over to them, a bright grin on his face. "Elladan, Chase," he called. "Estel has just arrived, along with Gandalf and Hope."

Almost immediately, the cloud of dread above them disappeared, and the two of them sprang to their feet. "Elrohir, are any of them injured?" Elladan asked his brother concernedly.

"None of them were injured on the journey to Rivendell," Elrohir replied. "But Hope and Aragorn are quite obviously worn. They are weary from there travels."

Chase nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He raced down to the courtyard, where Hope, Aragorn, and Gandalf were dismounting. The gray wizard immediately departed for the Lord Elrond's chambers, and Aragorn took the reins of the three horses to lead them to the stables. Hope, meanwhile, had met up with Hunter, and the two young girls were amiably chatting on one of the stone benches.

"Hope!" Chase called happily.

Hope stood up, a warm smile upon her face. "Chase! It is good to see you again, mellon nin!"

"You as well," Chase replied, before the two clasped hands and pulled each other into a warrior's embrace. "How do you fare?" the ellon asked.

"Hunter asked me the same thing," Hope chuckled, sitting back down on the bench. Chase sat down on her other side, so that Hope was in the middle. The young Ranger recounted the events since the last time they had met, the troubles on the mountain pass, the hunt for Gollum, and her most recent travels.

"So Gollum has been found?" Hunter asked, doing her best to recall the events from the book.

Hope nodded her head solemnly. "Indeed. The events of the books are about to be set in motion."

"Well, what should we do?" Chase asked. "I wish to help them, but we cannot change history."

"But there lies a problem," Hope replied. "Even though we are doing nothing, we are still changing the course of events. I worry for what the future holds for us."

Hunter sighed. "I suppose we can only hope for the best."

~o*o*o*o~

The three Elenmîr's talk continued far into the day, each swapping stories of their various escapades. For them, it felt normal, a part of their life that been missing for the past year, to just chat and laugh at each other's expense. But something had changed about each of them. The way they held themselves, the manner in which they spoke, it was not the same as it was when they had first met a year ago.

Elrond noted this fact as he observed the three from the balcony alongside Gandalf. Hunter held herself high, a courageous, fiery spirit resting inside her. She had become a true Shieldmaiden of Rohan, unafraid of war and death. Chase stood proud and tall like a warrior, yet he had also become gentle and kind, learning the ways of the forest and nature. Hope seemed to have grown in strength of body and spirit, holding fast to what she trusted. The air of a true Ranger hung around her, one who has traveled the wilderness bravely.

"They have grown much since the Elenmîr first met," Gandalf remarked, stepping away from the balcony and back into Elrond's study.

Elrond followed the aged wizard into the large room filled with several books and scrolls. "They have seen and experienced things than no child should at their age," he replied. Childhood was a precious thing to many of the Elves, always so quick to disappear and fade into mere memory.

"Elrond, they are no longer children," Gandalf stated. "They carry the valor of their ancestors in their blood. The five of them are stronger than anyone has realized. They were born for this task that they face."

"Let us hope so," Elrond sighed, gazing out one of the windows. "The shadow is coming upon us swifter than anyone expected, determined to quench any beacon of hope for us. We will need all the help we could possibly receive."

Gandalf stepped over to the window, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Do not doubt their abilities, Elrond, for sometimes the smallest among us will play the biggest role in the future."

**Okay, so hopefully next chapter the action will begin. I will do my best publish chapters for all of my stories as quickly as possible. In the meantime, though, please review!**


	16. The Journey Begins

**I'm back, readers! Sorry it took me forever to update; I was away at camp for a week, and before that, I was managing my other stories. But I finally got around to updating this one. This is kind of a filler chapter and kind of short, but it's rather important in my opinion. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. **

Chapter 16: The Journey Begins

Philip was officially not happy.

He had ridden into Osgiliath with Boromir and the other reinforcements to help the Rangers drive out the flood of orcs pouring into the ruined city, and within a few minutes of the battle, he had fallen off his horse when the stallion had reared violently. So now here he was, picking himself off the blood-strewn ground and trying to regain his balance.

"Philip!"

A voice called his name as a figure jumped down from one of the crumbling walls and impaled an orc about to strike down the fourteen-year-old. The man was cloaked in dark green, his hood pulled back to reveal a familiar face.

"Arthion!" Philip cried, beaming at the dark-haired man.

The Ranger nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. With a swift motion, Arthion darted behind Philip and struck down another orc. Following the elder man's lead, Philip hefted his shield and sliced his sword through the air, charging into battle.

"It's been quite some time since we last saw each other," Philip commented, driving his sword through an advancing orc.

"Indeed," Arthion agreed, decapitating another foe. "Though I do wish we had met under better circumstances."

Philip chuckled. "Yes, preferably not while we are fighting for our lives."

Arthion let out a short laugh. "It is good to see you again, Philip."

The young boy grinned at the elder. "You too. Now, let us drive these orcs right out of Osgiliath." Arthion nodded in agreement, and the two leapt into the fray, slicing and striking at the oncoming black hoard of orcs. Philip's strokes were clean and swift, dispatching oncoming foes easily. Arthion was an invaluable companion, well trained and quite capable of a battle like this.

The fight raged on for hours, but eventually, the orcs retreated from Osgiliath, the Gondorians claiming victory over the city. Proud and tall, Boromir climbed to the tallest arch in the city, holding the white banner of Gondor high. All the soldiers gathered beneath him, cheering for their beloved captain and, in Philip's case, amazing friend.

"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom," Boromir began. "And that it shall be once more! Never again shall the armies of Mordor touch the lands of my people. This city, the city of Osgiliath, has been reclaimed for Gondor!"

"For Gondor!" the soliders echoed.

Even from the ground, Philip could see the brilliant white smile on Boromir's face. "For Gondor!" the captain repeated, thrusting his sword high into the air.

"FOR GONDOR!" the soldiers cried once more. The armies then began to mill about, talking amiably and relishing in the calm that comes after a battle has been won. Philip bid goodbye to Arthion and wriggled through the crowds, trying to find whom he considered his best friend.

"Boromir!" the young boy called, running to his friend. The Captain of the White Tower was standing with his brother Faramir, chatting amiably.

"Philip!" Boromir greeted warmly. The two had become nearly inseparable over the past year, almost as close as brothers. "I see you have fared well during the battle."

"Never better," Philip replied cheerfully. "You did well yourself. Excellent speech by the way. Short and simple."

Boromir chuckled. "Of course. Leaves more time for celebration!" The trio laughed merrily, watching as the soldiers took out kegs of ale and began drinking heartily.

"It's good to see you again, Faramir," Philip stated happily as the threesome each filled a cup with ale.

"You as well, Philip," Faramir replied, a smile growing on his face. "I saw you during the battle with Arthion. You did quite well."

Philip grinned, taking a sip of ale. "Thanks, Faramir. I had a really good trainer."

"That you did," Boromir stated, ruffling Philip's hair. "I am proud to say that I have trained you two fine warriors." Both Philip and Faramir beamed at his statement, and as Boromir raised his glass in a toast, the two followed suit. "Remember today, for today, life is good."

The trio smiled gladly and drank from their goblets. Unfortunately, the grin on Faramir's face only lasted about a second longer as the man noticed a figure coming towards them in the distance. "He's here," he muttered gloomily.

Philip stiffened, knowing who "he" was. Boromir's cheery expression quickly disappeared. "Can he not give us one moment of peace?"

"I guess not," Philip replied, his tone dull. "I am just going to go now…" He did not exactly want to be around Denethor during his discussions with his sons. Boromir had confided in him more than once about how his father unfairly favors him over Faramir. To Philip, Denethor was kind for letting him stay in Minas Tirith, but he was also very strict and cold at times. And Philip certainly did not want to see Denethor angry, which he probably would be around Faramir, if what Boromir had told him was true.

Philip wandered through the city, greeting acquaintances he had made during his time in Minas Tirith. He eventually found his steed standing with some of the other horses, apparently unhurt. For several minutes, Philip just stood there beside his horse, gently stroking his neck and waiting for Boromir or Faramir to find him.

Finally, Boromir came to Philip, a dour expression on his face. "What happened?" Philip asked his friend.

"Father is sending me to Rivendell for a council," Boromir answered gloomily. "I suggested that Faramir should be the one to go, him being better at those diplomatic matters, but he insisted."

Philip raised his eyebrows, guessing what the purpose of the council was, but didn't say anything.

"I have requested that you accompany me," Boromir continued.

Philip was quite surprised at Boromir's statement. "But…why?"

"You are a valuable companion and a trusted friend," Boromir stated, a sincere smile on his face. "I would not leave you behind on such a journey." He paused for a moment. "Also, you have traveled to Rivendell before. I convinced Father that you would be a suitable guide." Boromir swiftly mounted his steed, the action mirrored by Philip. "Once we return to Minas Tirith, prepare your things. We leave at dawn's light tomorrow."

Philip nodded, a smile spreading across his face. Now, the adventure would really begin.

~o*o*o*o~

_TWANG!_

Fern smiled as the arrow flew from her bow and pierced the center of the target. A cluster of arrows already were embedded in the middle of the circle, their white fletching shining against the target. Grinning proudly, Fern strode to the target and yanked out the arrows, refilling the quiver Castien had gifted to her.

Speaking of Castien, the brown-haired ellon watched Fern silently from the shadows, a grim smile on his face. He did not like the news he was sent to deliver to the elleth, and he knew that she would not be fond of it either.

"Fern?" Castien called, stepping forward.

Said elleth whirled around. "Yes?" she answered, the smile on her face dropping as she saw the solemn look upon her Castien's face. "What troubles you, Castien?"

"Lord Elrond has called a council to be held in Rivendell," Castien replied. "Legolas is to go, along with a few of King Thranduil's advisors." He paused, heaving a sigh. "You are to go as well."

Fern creased her brow in thought. "What of you? Are you not going as well?"

"My duty is to stay here in Mirkwood to guard the city," Castien stated. "I cannot go." He gently cupped her face with his hand, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You will be safe, Fern. The road is well protected, and you travel in great company."

Fern shook her head. "But I do not wish to go," she protested. "I do not want to leave you."

Castien smiled sadly. "It is your duty to go, just as it is mine to stay." He brushed her cheek softly. "But know this: you have become a part of my heart just as I have become a part of yours. All you need is to remember me, and I will be with you, wherever you are."

Fern nodded somberly, fiddling with the strap of the quiver on her back. She briskly strode out of the training grounds, pausing at the exit. "Stay safe, Castien," she stated before turning around and leaving.

Castien gazed sadly at her retreating back. "You as well, Fern."

~o*o*o*o~

"Are you sure you want to accompany Aragorn?"

Hope turned to Chase, a solemn expression on her face. "Yes, Chase. Aragorn has become like a brother to me. You know what dangers lie ahead. I refuse to just stand by while he fights to protect Frodo and his company."

Chase sighed. "I understand, Hope," he replied. "I just worry for you. You heard Hunter's warning."

"I did indeed, but I will not be idle," Hope retorted. Her expression softened, and she grasped Chase's hand comfortingly. "Do not fear; I will be fine."

"How can you be sure?" Chase questioned persistently.

"I cannot," Hope answered honestly. "But I have faith in myself; that is enough."

Chase sighed. "Very well." He stepped back, a sincere expression on his face. "Be on your guard."

"I will," Hope replied, striding towards the entrance of Rivendell, where Gandalf and Aragorn were waiting. She paused for a moment, turning to face Chase. "Farewell."

Chase dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Good luck."

~o*o*o*o~

The town of Bree was bustling, several residents strolling down the streets amidst the candlelit windows of the nearby taverns and inns. The moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the three strangers as the passed silently through the village. Two wore hoods, one considerably shorter than the other, each flanking a tall figure riding upon a horse. Instead of a hood, the rider bore a pointy blue hat, the cloth faded from use. The trio paused before a three-story inn, the wooden sign swinging from the post reading "The Prancing Pony". Inside, drunken laughter of patrons could be heard among the conversation and the slamming of tankards onto the wooden tables.

Gandalf turned to his companions. "Do you remember the task I have given you?" he asked gravely, his voice deep and serious.

"Indeed," Hope answered. Aragorn nodded his head in agreement.

A flicker of a smile crossed Gandalf's face. "With luck, I shall return to Bree before the hobbits reach here. But if not, the responsibility falls to you."

"You can trust us to bring the hobbits to Rivendell safely, Gandalf," Aragorn replied quietly.

The Wizard nodded, turning to Hope. "Keep a watchful eye out, Hawkins," he cautioned, using Hope's Ranger name. "Steadily, the danger increases. You must be careful." Hope bit her lip, nodding her head in understanding. Satisfied, Gandalf spurred his steed into a gallop, cantering out of the town and into the night.

Aragorn turned to Hope, grasping her shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Hope sighed, squaring her shoulders. "Ready as I will ever be." And without another word, the two strode into the Inn of the Prancing Pony, about to begin the journey of their lives.

**Alright, so next chapter should be the beginning of Fellowship of the Ring! Is anyone else excited? Just me? Oh…**

**Anyways, please review!**


	17. The Prancing Pony

**I SWEAR THIS STORY ISN'T DEAD!**

**I am so terribly sorry for not updating this in over a month. But I really wanted to complete two of my other stories, _The Avengers of Harmony_ and _Dig Down Deeper_, before school started and the homework was dumped on me. Now that they are done, I've finally gotten back to this story.**

**Okay, so in this chapter we start the Fellowship of the Ring. I decided to blend movie and book verse together for this chapter, and I'll probably be doing that for a good part of the story. Also, like in Tolkien's works, I will be including a lot of songs in this. I will give credit to the song either in this author's note or the one on the bottom. The song in this chapter is _The Cat and the Moon_ from the _Lord of the Rings Musical_. It was sung during the Bree scene, and I thought it fit well enough.**

**Anyways, on to the chapter! I don't own anything other than my OCs.**

Chapter 17: The Prancing Pony

As like every night, loud, raucous laughter filled the common room of the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Drunkards slammed tankards of ale on the polished oak tables, shouting nonsensical phrases that only those who had a touch too much alcohol could ever hope to understand. And in a darkened corner of the room, two figures sat silent, hoods drawn over their heads.

Hope shifted in her seat, doing her best to stifle a yawn. However, this did not go unnoticed by Aragorn. The elder Ranger smirked at his younger companion as he chewed on his pipe. "Could you not find sleep last night?" he whispered, the hint of a playful smile showing on his lips.

"No," Hope replied with a glare. "I am just tired of sitting here and watching the same room that we have been watching for an entire week." She crossed her arms, letting out an irritated sigh.

"Be patient, Hawkins," Aragorn chided, using his companion's Ranger name. "Frodo will come soon enough."

Hope only grunted in response, resuming her silent observation of the room. Rain pounded fiercely at the windows, the night dark and stormy. The heavy wooden doors of the inn slammed open and closed several times, numerous patrons entering the inn. All were soaked to their skin from the storm outside, looking for a place to warm up and dry off. Lightning flashed in the windowpanes for a split second, and then the booming drum of thunder rumbled from the sky.

Two pairs of gray eyes roamed the common room, eventually landing on a group of four heads of curly hair bobbing through the crowd, much shorter than the average Man. A wary gleam was in the lead hobbit's brilliant blue eyes, and in a town such as Bree, that guarded look was certainly cause for suspicion, especially on a hobbit's face.

"There he is," Hope muttered, her gaze never leaving Frodo and his companions.

Aragorn cocked his head to the side, listening intently as Frodo approached Butterbur. "He is quite wise, giving himself a false name," he remarked after a while. The elder Ranger pursed his lips. "Though Gandalf did not say he would be with company."

Hope waved her hand, dismissing the matter. "His friends are loyal. They would never allow him to embark on such a dangerous journey alone," was all she said, no more, no less. She didn't want to give out any information unless it was absolutely necessary.

Aragorn merely nodded, the barest hint of a smile flitting across his face at Hope's statement. The two Rangers continued to watch Frodo as he hurriedly paid for one hobbit-sized room for him and his companions. Butterbur nodded, leading the company of four through the doorway at the back of the common room which led to the various halls of rooms at the inn. A few minutes later, the four hobbits trooped back into the common room, taking a seat at a table far too big for them and beginning to eat. Through gaps in the crowd, Hope could get a good look at Frodo's four companions. One had strawberry blond hair, slightly bigger than the others. The other two seemed of identical build, one with blond locks and the other with reddish brown.

Snippets of the four hobbits' talk drifted to the Rangers' ears, and soon both had learned each of the hobbits' names. Presently, the hobbit called Sam turned in their direction, noticing the Rangers for the first time. The hobbit gently nudged Frodo, gesturing to Hope and Aragorn. "Those fellows have been doing nothing but stare at you since we arrived," Sam remarked, just loud enough for Hope and Aragorn to hear.

"So it seems that the hobbits are quite watchful," Aragorn murmured.

Hope shook her head. "Only when they are not filled with ale. Frodo should keep Merry and Pippin in check; otherwise, they shall babble to all the townsfolk."

Aragorn was silent, the firelight casting an eerie gleam in his eyes as he watched Frodo ask Butterbur a question. The innkeeper quickly answered, his voice carrying to the corner in which the two Rangers sat. "Those are some of them Ranger folk. A dangerous lot, they are, wandering the wilds. What their right names are, no one knows, but around here, they're known as Strider and Hawkins." His tone was dark and foreboding, Butterbur glancing briefly in their direction before shaking his head. "I wouldn't associate with them if I were you. Trouble seems to follow them everywhere."

Butterbur was then pulled away by another customer, leaving Frodo to ponder on the innkeeper's words. Sam turned once more to glare at the two Rangers again before he looked back at Frodo. "What do you reckon two fellows like those would want with you?" he asked.

Frodo opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off as Pippin's ringing laughter reached his (and the Rangers') ears. Hope could clearly see that the young hobbit had drunk too much ale and was happily chatting away with the Bree folk. Currently, he seemed to be reenacting a speech of sorts, and from the distressed look on Frodo's face, Hope could guess whose speech it was. The dark-haired hobbit glanced around desperately, trying to find some way to divert the attention from Pippin. Hope winced, shaking her head; if the young hobbit continued talking, the name of Baggins would surely come up, and perhaps even the Ring!

Not knowing what to do, Frodo foolishly leapt up onto a table, and immediately, all eyes were on him. The room was silent for the briefest of moments, and then someone shouted with a drunken laugh, "A song! Sing us a song, master hobbit!"

For a moment, Frodo just stood gaping as the entire crowd of patrons began demanding a song. And then, recalling an old tavern tune, he began to sing.

_"There's an inn of old renown  
>Where they brew a beer so brown<br>Moon came rolling down the hill  
>One Hevnsday night to drink his fill.<em>

_On a three-stringed fiddle there_  
><em>Played the Ostler's cat so fair<em>  
><em>The hornèd Cow that night was seen<em>  
><em>To dance a jig upon the green.<em>

_Called by the fiddle to the_  
><em>Middle of the muddle where the<em>  
><em>Cow with a caper sent the<em>  
><em>Small dog squealing.<em>  
><em>Moon in a fuddle went to<em>  
><em>Huddle by the griddle but he<em>  
><em>Slipped in a puddle and the<em>  
><em>World went reeling.<em>

_Downsides went up - hey!_  
><em>Outsides went wide.<em>  
><em>As the fiddle<em>  
><em>Played a twiddle<em>  
><em>And the Moon slept till Sterrenday.<em>  
><em>Upsides went west - hey!<em>  
><em>Broadsides went boom.<em>  
><em>With a twiddle on the fiddle<em>  
><em>In the middle by the griddle<em>  
><em>And the Moon slept till Sterrenday.<em>

_Dish from off the dresser pranced,_  
><em>Found a spoon and gaily danced.<em>  
><em>Horses neighed and champed their bits<em>  
><em>For the bloodshot Moon had lost his wits.<em>

_Well, cow jumped over, Dog barked wild,_  
><em>Moon lay prone and sweetly smiled.<em>  
><em>Ostler cried, "Play faster, Cat!<em>  
><em>Because we all want to dance like that."<em>

_Gambol and totter 'til you're_  
><em>Hotter than a hatter and you<em>  
><em>Spin all akimbo<em>  
><em>Like a windmill flailing.<em>  
><em>Whirl with a clatter 'til you<em>  
><em>Scatter every cotter and the<em>  
><em>Strings start a-pinging as the<em>  
><em>World goes sailing.<em>

_Downsides go up - hey!_  
><em>Outsides go wide.<em>  
><em>You can clatter<em>  
><em>With your platter<em>  
><em>But the Moon slept till Sterrenday.<em>  
><em>Upsides go west - hey!<em>  
><em>Broadsides go boom.<em>  
><em>With a batter and a clatter<em>  
><em>You can shatter every platter<em>  
><em>But the Moon slept till Sterrenday."<em>

As Frodo sang, a grin slowly spread across Hope's face, and she idly began drumming the table to the rhythm of the song. Aragorn raised his eyebrows, noticing the motion. "I see you are familiar with the song," the elder Ranger remarked.

"My mom taught me this song," Hope replied. "It has been in my family for generations. I did not know it originated from here."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Aragorn's lips. "It is quite an old tavern song. I would not be surprised if Eradan chose to pass it down to his children."

Hope chuckled, turning her attention back to the patrons in the inn. All the townsfolk were thoroughly enjoying the song, laughing and dancing as Frodo's voice carried throughout the room. The young Ranger could see that Frodo was looking quite pleased with himself, beginning to caper and dance around on the table for the crowd's amusement.

"_Downsides go up - hey!  
>Outsides go wide.<br>With a twiddle on the fiddle  
>In the middle by the griddle<br>And the Moon slept till Sterrenday.  
>Upsides go west - hey!<br>Broadsides go boom.  
>With a batter and a clatter<br>You can shatter every platter  
>But the Moon slept till Sterrenday.<em>

_HEY!"_

And with a flourish, Frodo leapt into the air, much to the crowd's delight. However, when he landed, he fell on a tray of mugs and slipped, tumbling to the ground. A glint of gold flashed in the air as he fell, and for a moment, Frodo was clearly visible, lying on his back on the floor, one hand outstretched.

And then he vanished.

The patrons stared shocked at the now seemingly empty square of space, muttering amongst one another about what just happened. Aragorn and Hope immediately sprang from their seats, gazing intensely at the spot where Frodo had been. The two Rangers glanced at each other, their silver eyes silently communicating a single word: _Go_.

Swiftly, the pair pushed through the crowd rushing to the spot where Frodo had disappeared. Before their eyes, the hobbit materialized, panting heavily as one would after experiencing an awful fright. Aragorn quickly seized Frodo's hood, yanking him to his hairy feet.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill!" the elder Ranger hissed, pushing Frodo roughly out of the common room and up the stairs to the second level of the inn. Hope paused at the base of the stairs, scanning the room for Sam, Merry, and Pippin, before following Aragorn up to their room.

Aragorn threw open the door and shoved Frodo into the room. Hope rapidly paced about the room, quickly extinguishing the flickering candles scattered across the mantle, windowsill, and table. Frodo glanced around the room, fright and panic evident in his wide blue eyes. "What is it you want?" he asked shakily.

"A little more caution from you, Mr. Underhill. Or should I say Baggins," Hope smirked at the stricken expression that crossed the hobbit's face. "That is no trinket you carry."

Frodo shook his head. "I carry nothing!"

"Indeed," Aragorn stated, striding towards window. "We can avoid being seen if we wish, but to disappear entirely-" He ripped off his hood, revealing his shaggy dark head of hair and weather-beaten face. "That is a rare gift."

"We know of the darkness that hunts you, Frodo," Hope growled, walking to the elder Ranger's side. "And your little prank-"

"It was sheer accident!" Frodo protested.

"Accident or not, it has alerted them to your presence here," Hope continued darkly. She pulled down her hood, the glow of the embers flickering across her worn face, a tattered braid hanging limply on her neck. Gray eyes roved over the hobbit, watching his every move and expression. "Are you frightened?"

Frodo backed against the wall. "Yes," he answered truthfully.

Aragorn shook his head. "Not nearly frightened enough."

Suddenly, the door banged open. On instinct, Strider and Hawkins whirled around, drawing their swords as three hobbits flew inside the room, each wielding makeshift weapons, or the Sam's case, his fists. "Let him go!" Sam shouted. "Or I'll have you, Rangers!"

Strider chuckled softly, sheathing his sword. "You have a stout heart, young hobbit, but that will not save you." He shook his head, his face grim. "You can no longer wait for the wizard."

"Strider," Hawkins called, stepping towards him and sheathing her sword. "We best hurry. They are coming."

**So I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please Review!**


	18. The Nazgûl

**Yay! Another update! I am so happy!**

**Honestly though, I wanted to get this chapter out a whole lot sooner than I did. This ended up being really hard to write.**

**Anyways, I don't own Lord of the Rings. But you already knew that.**

Chapter 18: The Nazgûl

Hope gazed out the small window as the raindrops splattered onto the pane, distorting the buildings and figures outside. Faintly, she could hear Aragorn rummaging around directly beneath them in the hobbits' room, creating decoys to fool the wraiths when they came. Blankets and pillows were piled onto the floor, forming four makeshift beds for the hobbits.

"Pardon me, Miss Hawkins?"

At the sound of Sam's voice, Hope turned her gaze from the window, staring levelly at the hobbit. "Yes?"

Sam shifted in his bed, the wary gleam still in his eyes. "You're quite young for one of the Big Folk, aren't you?"

The young Ranger folded her arms across her chest with a huff. She could quite clearly see the direction of this conversation, a conversation she dearly hoped she would never have. Already many of the other Rangers had questioned her; this was something she did not like explaining over and over again. "Yes, Sam," she answered stiffly, reading the unspoken question in the hobbit's brown eyes. "I travel with Strider though because he is my mentor and friend. He may not look like it, but he is a good and trustworthy man."

Sam cocked an eyebrow, suspicion and distrust written across his face, but he said nothing, lying back down and turning over on his side. Within a few moments, Hope could tell that he, along with the other three hobbits, were fast asleep, snoring softly beneath the covers. She smiled faintly at the sight, wishing that she could be peaceful as those four seemed as they slept on, not worrying about what could – no, what probably would - happen as time progresses. Leaning back against the chair, she closed her eyes, waiting…waiting…

A hand gently clasped her shoulder, startling her out of her doze. Hope looked up to see Aragorn gazing down at her, smiling ever so slightly. "Strider," Hope groaned, stifling a yawn. The elder Ranger chuckled quietly, sitting down in the chair opposite hers and directing his gaze to the window. For much of the night, the two stayed like that, just sitting and watching, hardly ever speaking.

~o*o*o*o~

Slowly, the Nazgûl came.

They rode through the streets of Bree on horses black as night, black robes billowing out ominously behind them. Five there were in the company that come to the Inn of the Prancing Pony, throwing open the doors and striding menacingly inside, a cold mist following them wherever they traveled. The shrill screams of the Ringwraiths shattered the still night, echoing for leagues around.

The hobbits bolted upright, awoken by the shrieks of the Black Riders. Strider and Hawkins still sat alert by the window, the silver in their eyes gleaming in the dimming firelight. "What are they?" Frodo asked the two Rangers.

A dark look overcame Strider's face. "They were once great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question or doubt, slowly falling into the darkness of Sauron's shadow."

"They are now slaves to his will, forever searching for the One," Hawkins added, a grim look on her face. "At all times can they feel its power, and so long as you bear it, they will never cease hunting you. They are the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead."

No one spoke, not daring to break the thick, ominous silence that hung about them like a cloud of shadow. The thunder of hooves sounded from outside, the screeches of the Nazgûl piercing the night as they rode on, continuing their never-ending search for the Ringbearer.

~o*o*o*o~

Morning soon came, the gray twilight filtering in through the clouds above. The company soon departed Bree, taking only the necessary supplies piled onto a baggage pony Sam had named "Bill". They hobbit had taken quite a liking to the pony, the poor thing looking awfully thin and sick after being in its master's foul care for so long. Aragorn and Hope led the way, through the woods and the countryside, avoiding all roads and towns.

Frodo stared warily at the two as they journeyed on. "Where are you taking us?" he questioned guardedly.

"Into the wild," Strider vaguely replied. Hawkins only grunted in response, surveying the surrounding trees.

The company continued to press on; always on their guard should anything unpleasant pass their way. Aragorn and Hope were often a good distance ahead of the hobbits, scouting the land and ensuring they were safe. As they paused to scan the area, the two Rangers could hear the hobbits talking in hushed voices behind them.

"How do we know that this Strider and Hawkins are friends of Gandalf?" Merry asked. Hope could almost feel the hobbit's suspicious gaze on her back.

"I think servants of the enemy would look fairer but feel fouler," Frodo replied softly.

Merry let out a huff. "They're foul enough."

Aragorn tipped his head upon hearing the comment, glancing over at Hope. The younger Ranger just rolled her eyes, letting out a soft chuckle. "It seems you have driven your paranoia into them," she whispered, grinning up at her mentor. Aragorn did not reply, but Hope could see the faint traces of a smile on his face.

For several days they continued their travels, seeing no sign and hearing no sound of any living creatures for much of their travels. They were far from the roads now, out in the pathless wilderness the Rangers called home. Most times, the company was silent, but on some occasions the hobbits would question the Rangers or whisper about their intentions. They did not trust the pair at all, and Hope doubted they would ever truly gain their trust until they reached safety.

One morning, a thick frost covered the ground, crunching beneath their feet. Presently, the sound of clanking pots and pans filled the still air, causing both Rangers to whirl around only to see the hobbits fussing over the baggage of Bill the pony, bringing out all sorts of cooking utensils.

"Gentlemen, we do not stop until nightfall," Aragorn stated, staring at the hobbits questioningly.

Pippin's eyebrows furrowed together. "But what about breakfast?"

"We've already had it," Hope replied shortly, "and we have no time for seconds."

"But where are we going in such a hurry?" Sam inquired. To the hobbits, there should be no legitimate reason for them to skip second breakfast, or any meals of the day for that matter.

A fond smile graced Strider's face as he answered, "To Rivendell, Master Gamgee, and the House of Elrond." He gestured for the company to continue walking. "Come now, we must hasten."

~o*o*o*o~

A few days passed, and the ground soon became soggy, sinking into the bog that was the Midgewater Marshes. Midges buzzed around their faces and arms, biting and pinching them relentlessly. A thick fog filled the air, blurring their vision. The quagmire was murky and foul, squelching and squishing beneath their feet as they passed. For four days they pushed through the marsh and murk, finally leaving the bogs behind at light on the fifth day.

Steadily, the land began to rise, becoming dry and solid once more. A tall hill rose in the distance, the ruins of a once-great tower crowning the flat top. "Amon Sûl," Hope breathed, a sense of fear and dread overcoming her. "Weathertop."

The young Ranger jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, whirling around to see it was only Aragorn. Strider gave her a questioning look, but he did not press on the matter, sensing that she was very anxious and even frightened. Instead, he turned to the hobbits. "We will rest here tonight," he announced, noting at how Hope seemed to wince at the words.

The group of six trooped up to the hillside, finding shelter in a cave embedded in the stone side of the hill. The four hobbits flopped down onto the ground, exhausted from the day's travels. Aragorn stood outside the cave, gazing intently at the setting sun. Hope sat a little ways off, absorbed in her thoughts._ This is Weathertop_, she told herself darkly. _This is where Frodo is stabbed. The Ringwraiths will come; they will surely attack. And I cannot tell Aragorn or Frodo or anyone else._

Aragorn's voice snapped her out of her musings. "Stay here, and keep your swords close," he ordered the hobbits. "I am going to have a look around." He then turned to face Hope. "Hope, come with me."

The young Ranger shook her head, panic and stress clearly in her eyes. "I- I really think I should stay with the hobbits."

Aragorn grasped her shoulder, gazing sternly into her eyes. "Hope, please, come with me," he repeated firmly. Hope sighed resignedly and rose to her feet, following her mentor down the hillside and into the nearby woods. For a few moments, the two traveled in silence, Hope surreptitiously picking up twigs and branches off the ground and gathering them into a bundle beneath her arm.

Eventually, Aragorn broke the silence. "Hope, what troubles you?" he asked, concern clear in his eyes. Hope pretended not to hear him, so the elder Ranger continued. "Once we reached Weathertop, you have been much more tense and anxious; I can see it in your eyes. Tell me, what is wrong?"

Hope did not answer for several long minutes. "Is this why you insisted on bringing me out here, Aragorn?" she finally replied, stating a question instead of giving a straight answer.

Aragorn nodded. "Indeed. I do not deny it."

Hope sighed, sinking down onto a large stone. Aragorn sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Something will happen tonight at Weathertop," she stated grimly, staring at the ground. "And I cannot tell you or anyone else what will transpire, for fear of changing the course of the future."

"Such is your burden, and the burden of the Elenmîr," Aragorn whispered, gazing up at the night sky. No moon had risen, the stars obscured by a dark blanket of clouds. Suddenly, a cold mist began to curl at their feet, obscuring the ground. A chill ran through the air, causing Hope to look up, reaching towards her belt.

_SCREEEEEE!_

The shrill scream pierced the night. Hope and Aragorn sprang to their feet, gripping their sword hilts. Quickly, Hope threw down the bundle of wood onto the ground. Wrenching her flint from her pack, she hurriedly struck it a few times against her knife, a blaze of sparks flying forth. The piles of timbers burst into orange flame, flaring in the night. Pulling two long brands from the fire, she tossed one to Aragorn.

"Go!" she shouted, drawing her sword. Aragorn gave her a swift nod, unsheathing his blade before charging to Weathertop.

The two Rangers clambered up the side of the hill, desperately hoping they were not too late. Five black figures could be seen advancing on the hobbits, their dark robes swirling about them. All held dark steel blades, jagged and rusted. Suddenly, a loud scream of pain echoed from the ruins.

"Frodo," Aragorn breathed, and with a bellowing cry, the Ranger leapt up onto the ruins, lashing out with both sword and flame. Hope soon followed her mentor's lead, the glow of her torch illuminating the fierce snarl on her face. The two Rangers stood back to back, watching as the five Ringwraiths surrounded them, recoiling and hissing at the flaming brands. Out of the corner of her eye, Hope could see Frodo lying against the ruins, clutching his shoulder in agony as Sam hovered over him.

Together, Hope and Aragorn struck, ferociously swinging their torches at the wraiths. The shrieks of the Nazgûl filled the night as they lunged at the two Rangers. Hope crouched low, dodging a Rider's attack, and swung upwards with her brand, setting the wraith's black robes alight. Nearby, Aragorn dueled skillfully with another Ringwraith, already having set one ablaze. Screaming a battlecry, Hope charged at another of the Nazgûl, her sword raised high. The two blades clashed, and Ranger and wraith fought fiercely, the light of the torch flickering over their forms. Hope swung the brand high, striking the Ringwraith's side. The flames quickly consumed the Black Rider, and shrieking viciously, the wraith charged off the side of the ruin to the fog-covered ground below.

All five of the Nazgûl had fled, leaving only the Rangers and the hobbits in the ruins. Aragorn quickly strode to Hope, his eyes scanning for wounds. "I am fine, Strider," Hope reassured him, breathing heavily.

"Strider! Hawkins!"

Both Rangers whipped their heads towards the hobbits, all clustered around Frodo. Hope and Aragorn ran to his side, kneeling down. Frodo's eyes were clouding over, and the hobbit was moaning with pain. A small sword lay beside him, jagged and rusted like the blades of the Nazgûl. Hope snatched it off the ground. "Strider, look." The hilt suddenly burned her hand as the blade seemed to dissolve to nothingness. Hope hissed in pain and recoiled, the hilt clattering onto the stone.

Aragorn's face creased in worry. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," he stated grimly, hoisting Frodo up onto his shoulder. "We must get him to Rivendell. Hurry!"

The company began to sprint away from the ruins, stopping only to gather their supplies and light a few more torches. Hope led the way, closely followed by Aragorn. Frodo seemed to be in a delirious state, crying for Gandalf. No one spoke, all too worried for Frodo's life. Abruptly, Hope stopped, her eyes hastily scanning the area and her ears alert.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked urgently, halting beside her.

Hope looked up at him, fear quite evident in her eyes. "I hear hoofbeats."

**Cliffhanger! Hehe, I couldn't help it.**

**Alright, hope you enjoyed this new chapter! Please review!**


	19. The Flight to the Ford

**Hunter: Finally, I can be part of the author's note!**

**Fern: We are ALL part of the author's note, Hunter.**

**Philip: Oh, shush, Fern, you are not even in this chapter.**

**Hope: Neither are you, Philip.**

**Chase: _Sedho!_ Quiet! Can we just do the disclaimer? Otherwise, I doubt Maethorelen will let us do the author's note again.**

**Philip: Alright, fine. Maethorelen only owns me.**

**Hunter: And me.**

**Hope: And me.**

**Chase: And me.**

**Fern: Me too.**

**Chase: Also, we speak a lot of Sindarin in this chapter. Translations are at the bottom.**

Chapter 19: The Flight to the Ford

"Stay here," Aragorn commanded the hobbits, setting Frodo down in a small forest clearing. The hobbit was fading quickly, a cold shadow creeping over his face like a dark storm cloud. His breath came in short, pained gasps, and the whites of his eyes were tinged with red.

"Strider," Hope whispered, looking up at the elder Ranger. "The Morgul poison is stronger than we thought. At this pace, he will not make it."

Aragorn strode out of the clearing, motioning for Hope to follow. "It is as I feared," he murmured. "The shadow of the Dark Lord is growing swiftly, strengthening the dark powers of the Ringwraiths and their weapons."

Hope shook her head. _This isn't what was supposed to happen, _she sighed inwardly_._

"Hope, find some athelas," Aragorn commanded. "It may help slow the poison. And be wary; that rider is still out there. Whether it is friend or foe, I do not know." Hope briskly nodded, and with that, the two Rangers sped off in opposite directions, crouching low to the ground to search of the small white-flowered shrub that could be Frodo's only hope for survival.

Suddenly, Hope froze. The sound of hooves echoed through the clearing with a _clippety-clippety-clip_. Nearer it came, growing louder and faster by the seconds. And then, into view came the rider. It was no wraith, but instead a white horse, a small figure clad in blue and silver rainment upon its back. His hood was thrown back, dark hair streaming behind him like a banner. Upon his chest lay a small blue crystal carved in a shape of a star.

Hope stared incredulously at the rider. "Chase?"

The young ellon grinned, gracefully dismounting his steed. "_Mae govannen,_ _Hope_. I am glad that I have found you. There are five wraiths on your tail, and they are coming nearer."

A smile flashed onto Hope's face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of confusion. "No rider should have reached us until we came to Trollshaw," she stated. "Not for several days at least."

"I left a few days prior to when Elrond would send out Glorfindel and the other riders to search for you," Chase explained. "I knew this would happen, and I wanted to reach you before it was too late."

Hope nodded, understanding. "It is well that you came. The shadow is coming over Frodo quicker than we expected."

Chase groaned, rubbing his temples. "Gandalf warned me that this would happen," he sighed. "The might of Sauron is growing all too swiftly, and so long as the Elenmîr live and breathe freely, it will not stop."

Hope clenched her fists in frustration. "We must hurry then. Come, we need to find Aragorn!"

It did not take long for them to find the elder Ranger, crouched over a bush of athelas plant. Aragorn was quite surprised to see Chase there, but nevertheless, he greatly appreciated the ellon's assistance. Swiftly, the trio raced to the clearing where the hobbits were. Chase tensed as he laid his eyes upon Frodo, concern clear on his face. Quickly, he dropped to his knees beside the hobbit, whispering, "_Lasto beth nin, tolo dan nan galad._" Frodo seemed to flinch away from words, continuing to gasp for breath.

Aragorn and Hope knelt down beside him, watching as the young ellon's eyes examined Frodo. The younger Ranger gently pulled back the hobbit's shirt, reveal a dark, throbbing wound, black veins of poison twisting out from the gash. Aragorn hastily crushed some of the athelas leaves in his palm, releasing a strong, sweet scent, and placed them into the wound. The shadow on Frodo's face seemed to lessen, and he became less strained and panicked.

"_I athelas ind tua_," Chase murmured. "_Am' sal' Frodo peleth_. _Hon û-ind brono_."

Aragorn rose to his feet, scooping Frodo into his arms and ignoring the protests of the hobbits behind him. "_Noro lim an Imladris, Chase_," he stated as he strode to Chase's steed. "_Tir an i duin an tua_."

Swiftly, Aragorn and Hope hoisted Frodo into the saddle just as Chase mounted the horse. "Stay safe, Chase," Hope whispered, resting her hand on the horse's neck. "Ride hard, and don't look back."

Chase nodded briskly, gripping the reins of the stallion. "_Noro lim, Belan!_" he commanded. "_Noro lim!_"

The shining steed reared up with a neigh and broke into a gallop, winding around the trees and boulders scattered through the woods. Chase could hear the hobbits shouting after him, but, true to his word, he did not look back and continued to race through the forest, determined to get Frodo to Rivendell before it was too late.

For days he rode through the wilderness, stopping only when Belan needed rest, for the horse was not as tireless and swift as the Elves. On the seventh day of his ride, Chase noticed that black shadows of horses began to appear in the trees beside him, billowing cloaks of darkness rippling back from their riders. The ellon urged the stallion on, and Belan sped out onto the plains, allowing Chase to finally see his pursuers clearly.

"_Neder rochyn!_" he exclaimed, tensing at the sight of the nine Ringwraiths cantering after him, their black steeds snorting and whinnying angrily. "_Noro lim, Belan!_" Chase cried desperately. The white stallion obeyed, the Elvish horse swiftly outrunning the black steeds of the Nazgûl.

Finally, the river Bruinen came into view. Without hesitation, Belan charged into the waters, stopping just short of the other side. Chase whirled the stallion around to see the wraiths on the other bank, the horses of the Nazgûl stamping and snorting at the river.

One of the Ringwraiths turned its hood towards Chase. "Give up the Halfling, Elf-child," it hissed.

"No!" Chase defiantly shouted, drawing the thin, curved, Elvish blade Elladan and Elrohir had given to him from its sheath with a loud ring. "Get back, foul creatures of Mordor!"

The Nazgûl laughed, a harsh, chilling sound. "You have no power over us, Elfling." As one, they drew their black swords, advancing into the waters and towards Chase.

Chase's grip on Belan's reins tightened as his eyes darted around the scene, panic beginning to fill his mind. He could not take on the Nine alone, but turning around and fleeing would lead the wraiths into Rivendell. Suddenly, Aragorn's words filled his mind: _Tir an i duin an tua_. _Look to the river for help._ The ellon gazed down at the water, beginning to chant, his voice steadily growing stronger.

"_Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Ulaer! Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Ulaer!_"

Suddenly, the waters of the river began to rise, and a great rumbling was heard in the distance. A torrent of water came crashing down from the mountains, the white foam forming the shapes of horses and riders. Chase could spot great boulders tumbling in the froth, raining down upon the wraiths. The ear-piercing shrieks of the Nazgûl filled the air as one by one, they fell into the rushing waters of the river Bruinen.

Not stopping to revel in the small feeling of triumph, Chase whipped Belan around, cantering rapidly to Imladris. The Elven city soon came into view, glistening beautifully in the sunlight. Bright flowers and lush trees surrounded the paths, but Chase had no time to admire the tranquility in this haven compared to the darkness outside.

"Elrohir!" he shouted as he entered the courtyard. The elder ellon was simply leaning on a tree, but he quickly straightened upon hearing Chase's voice.

"Chase, you have returned!" Elrohir cried, rushing over to Belan. "We were worried when we found Belan gone from the stables." The smile on his face quickly turned to one of concern as he saw Chase's grim expression and the Halfing slumped in the saddle in front of him. "What happened, _mellon nin_?"

Swiftly, Chase dismounted, lifting Frodo from the saddle. "I rode out to meet Aragorn, Hope, and the hobbits," he quickly explained. "When I reached them, they had been attacked by the Nazgûl, and Frodo, the Ringbearer, had been stabbed by a Morgul blade." Ignoring Elrohir's sound of outrage, he continued on. "I took Frodo on Belan and rode here as fast as I could. The Nine pursued me to the Ford, but the river stopped them."

Elrohir nodded, understanding. "Give Frodo to me," he stated. "I will take him to my father." Chase complied, and gently, the young ellon placed Frodo into Elrohir's arms.

"_Hannon lle, mellon nin_," Chase thanked the elder Elf. Elrohir smiled faintly at him before rushing off, his light footsteps hardly jarring the injured hobbit. The younger ellon watched Elrohir's retreating backside for a few moments before taking the reins of Belan and leading him to the stables. They were not too far away, the massive building housing so many of the Elvish steeds of Imladris. However, he was not alone in the stables. A figure stood near the end of the rows of stalls, tending to a gray stallion, her blonde hair flowing down onto her back in waves. Her green riding dress brushed the ground as she stroked the horse's neck, murmuring softly.

"Hello Hunter," Chase greeted, walking Belan to the stall beside Windstorm.

Hunter turned to face him, grinning broadly. "Chase!" she smiled. "I am glad you are back safely. Elladan and Elrohir nearly had a panic attack when they found out you had gone without telling them."

Chase chuckled at the thought. "I could not tell them, though," he argued, shaking his head. "My errand was an attempt at changing fate."

"I figured as much," Hunter replied, mock glaring at him. "But still, you could have told me."

A sheepish smile tugged at Chase's lips. "My apologies, I was in a bit of a hurry." He sighed, shaking his head. "And besides, the attempt did not really work."

Hunter turned back to face Windstorm, gently rubbing the stallion's nose. "You never know."

~o*o*o*o~

"Look, it's Mr. Bilbo's trolls!"

Hope smiled as Sam, Merry, and Pippin all curiously examined the three giant stone trolls that stood in the glade. One was stooped over, a bird's nest perched behind one ear. All were covered in moss, cracks running up and down the figures.

"We shall rest here for the night," Aragorn declared, gazing up at the sky. The clouds had passed, and the moon was once again shining brightly down upon them. Millions of stars twinkled in the sky, forming the great constellations of old.

Hope sighed tiredly, sinking down onto a rock. The whole ordeal had worn all of the company, worry and concern for Frodo and Chase leaving them exhausted. Even Aragorn, who appeared to be as resilient as a tree, seemed by the sag of his shoulders to be weary. The elder Ranger sat beside her on the stone while the three hobbits quickly pulled out their bedrolls, spreading them out on the ground. Within a few moments, their soft, steady breathing filled the night air.

Aragorn smiled faintly as Hope leaned her head on his shoulder, the younger Ranger blinking sleepily. "Hope, get some rest," he gently instructed. "We still have two more days of travel before we reach Rivendell."

With a rather large yawn, Hope lifted her head from Aragorn's shoulder. "Sorry 'bout that, Aragorn," she mumbled,

Chuckling softly, Aragorn clasped her shoulder. "It is fine, Hope. I do not mind."

Hope smiled gratefully up at the Ranger, closing her eyes and resting once more against his side. "_Hannon lle, gwador nin_," she murmured, drifting off to sleep.

Aragorn gazed down at Hope for a moment, registering what she had said. It was true that the pair had grown extremely close over the course of their travels, but never before had she called him "brother". His smile broadened ever so slightly.

"_Glassen, gwathel nin_."

_**Elvish Translations**_

_**Mae govannen, Hope. = Well met, Hope.**_

_**Lasto beth nin, tolo dan nan galad. = Hear my voice, come back to the light.**_

_**I athelas ind tua = The athelas will help.**_

**_Am' sal' Frodo peleth_._ = Yet still Frodo is fading._**

_**Hon û-ind brono. = He will not last.**_

_**Noro lim an Imladris, Chase. = Ride fast to Rivendell, Chase.**_

_**Tir an i duin an tua. = Look to the river for help.**_

_**Noro lim, Belan! = Ride fast, Belan!**_

_**Neder rochyn! = Nine riders!**_

_**Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Ulaer! = Flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths!**_

_**mellon nin = my friend**_

_**hannon lle = thank you**_

_**gwador nin = my brother**_

_**Glassen = My pleasure**_

_**gwathel nin = my sister**_

**Yeah, a lot of Elvish. I really like the language, and so you'll probably be seeing a lot of it in later chapters.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Please review!**


	20. The Council Assembles

**YES! This chapter is finally done! I am so indescribably happy. I wanted this chapter to be finished a week ago, but I was so busy with a bunch of work and tests that I couldn't get it done.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Like always, I only own my characters.**

Chapter 20: The Council Assembles

_CLANG!_

The sound of two swords clashing against each other echoed throughout the training grounds as Chase and Hunter sparred. Both moved swiftly, though one could see that Chase's movements were more fluid and nimble than Hunter's. One narrow strike forced Hunter to drop to the ground, tumbling across the dirt. From her position on her back, Hunter swung upwards, but Chase easily parried it, knocking the sword out of her grip.

"Yield," he demanded, holding her at swordpoint. His face was serious, but his eyes held a playful, triumphant gleam. Hunter conceded, and with a grin, Chase grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"Not bad, Hunter," a voice commented. "But you should move your feet faster, especially if your opponent is an elf."

Hunter and Chase simultaneously turned to see who had spoken. "Hope!" they exclaimed upon seeing the young Ranger leaning against one of the stone pillars, a weary smile upon her face. Hunter noted that her clothes were stained with blotches of mud, and her face was smudged with dirt and sweat. The duo immediately ran over to her, beaming brightly at their friend.

Chase reached her first, clasping Hope's arm in a warrior's greeting before pulling her into a quick embrace. "I am glad you are safe, _mellon nin_," he muttered quietly.

"I am glad you are safe as well," Hope replied, stepping back. "I was so worried for you. All Nine Riders were pursuing you; we heard them pass our camp in the night."

"Both Frodo and I arrived here no more harmed than we already were," Chase informed her. "You need not fear anymore."

Hope nodded, turning to face Hunter. "Hello again," she greeted tiredly.

Hunter shook her head, clasping Hope's shoulder and holding her at arm's length to inspect her. "You look terrible," she concluded.

Hope chuckled. "I have a feeling that will not be the last time I hear those words. But come now, I heard from Elladan and Elrohir that the delegations for the council would be arriving today."

The threesome strode together down the halls of Imladris, idly chatting as they walked. Eventually, they arrived at one of the main courtyards, where a pair of horses already stood along with their riders. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his reddish-gold locks shorn about his shoulders and a slight beard showing on his proud features. His garments, though rich, were stained with signs of long travel, and an ivory horn rested upon his belt. The other was younger and of much smaller stature, though dressed in a similar fashion. His hair was a darker shade of red than the other man's, and a broad smile was upon his clean-shaven face.

Though they could only guess who the first man was, the threesome had no doubt as to whom was the second. "Philip!" they shouted, causing the young man to whirl around in surprise. The grin upon his face widened, joy dancing in his clear blue eyes as he reunited with those he had not seen for over a year.

"Are these your comrades, Philip?" the older man asked, amusement sparkling in his eyes at his younger companion's excitement.

Phlilp nodded, proceeding to introduce Hope, Hunter, and Philip. "This is Boromir," he told them, gesturing to his partner.

"'Tis a great pleasure to meet you all," Boromir greeted politely, dipping his head. He then turned to Philip. "I take my leave." With that, Boromir strode off, leaving the four alone to talk.

Their conversation did not last long, however, for they were soon interrupted by the drumming of many hooves. A large company of horses cantered into the courtyard, the tall, graceful figures of the Elves astride their backs. Legolas was among them, as was a familiar golden-haired elleth.

Fern dismounted swiftly, grinning at the sight of the foursome. "Hope! Hunter! Chase! Philip!" she called, dashing towards them. The four were pleased to see that she was well and each exchanged greetings with the elleth. Fern excused herself from the company of Mirkwood Elves to speak with the other Elenmîr, and much of the afternoon was spent listening to each recount their adventures and experiences.

Finally, after over a year of being apart, the Elenmîr were reunited once more.

~o*o*o*o~

The sun rose high in the clear autumn sky of Rivendell, casting a warm glow over the gorgeous haven. Hope strolled through the grounds, her deep blue gown swirling around her booted feet. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and the Forodgîl pendant rested upon her breast. Aragorn strode beside her, dressed in a clean gray velvet surcoat and tunic. Despite the cheery atmosphere, the pair was grave, knowing that today was the day of the Council, the day that the fate of Middle-Earth would ultimately be decided.

The two Rangers quickly arrived at the terrace where the council would be held. Elegantly carved wooden chairs were arranged in a wide semi-circle, and almost every seat was occupied. Frodo and Gandalf sat beside one another across from the entrance. Legolas, Fern, and the other Mirkwood Elves sat in one section opposite of the delegation of Dwarves, whom they regarded with a hint of distaste. The Dwarves seemed to share the feeling, and one of them, a stout fellow with a bushy auburn beard whom Hope presumed was Gimli, would not even look at them, preferring to gaze elsewhere on the terrace. Philip and Hunter sat together beside Boromir, and Chase sat near the edge of the semi-circle. Hope uneasily took a seat beside the young ellon, feeling rather out of place with all of the older figures assembled. Aragorn calmly sat beside her, gently resting a reassuring hand on her arm. Murmured conversations rippled through the crowd, but all fell silent as Lord Elrond rose, addressing the Council.

"Strangers from a distant land, friends of old," he began, his stern gray eyes gazing gravely at those before him. "You have been summoned here to answer the growing threat of Mordor. The Shadow grows more powerful each day, and our list of allies grows thin. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. Each race is now bound to this one doom. We must unite, or surely will we fall into darkness."

Much was discussed and debated during the council of Elrond, though most of what was said need not be known. Many spoke of happenings in the South and the wide lands east of the Misty Mountains. Very rarely did any of the Elenmîr speak, all five knowing that their opinion would be rebuffed simply because of their age. The sun slowly climbed higher into the sky, and morning soon passed into afternoon. Finally, Elrond turned to Frodo, gesturing to the small stone plinth in the center of the terrace.

"Frodo, bring forth the Ring," he directed, his voice powerful and strong. Timidly, Frodo stepped forward, slowly reaching into his pocket to pull out the small golden band and place it gently upon the pedestal. Though it seemed small and light, it landed upon the stone with a solid thump, almost as if it was forged of lead rather than gold. A soft, still voice echoed throughout everyone's minds, whispering words of poisonous temptation.

Chase squeezed his eyes shut as the voice penetrated his mind. _Use the Ring. You will live up to the legacy of Erynion. Just take it. _The ellon shook his head furiously, denying the temptation.

_You want to be strong, do you not?_ the voice asked Hope. _The Ring will give you that strength, that valor that you so crave. _Hope's fists clenched as she battled the lure of the Ring, determined not to lose.

_Take the Ring_, the voice urged Hunter. _You could save all you saw perish in the Mirror of Galadriel. You could finally go back to Rohan. You could go home. _Hunter's knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the seat of the chair, fighting desperately against the pull of the Ring.

_You could make sure Castien is safe_, the voice whispered to Fern. _You could have your happy ending_. Quickly, Fern diverted her thoughts to what happened in the books, trying her hardest to drive the voice from her mind.

_Taking the Ring would make you a hero. You will become famous, renowned in all the lands_. The voice tantalized Philip, the allure of the Ring growing stronger and more powerful every minute. He did not even notice when Boromir rose from the seat beside him and began to address the Council, his friend's voice overpowered by the voice of the Ring.

Suddenly, Gandalf stood, his deep, booming tone thundering above all else. "_**Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!**_" The sky seemed to darken, a shadow appearing over the terrace. The Elves winced with pain as the Black Speech rung through the air. All the Elenmîr snapped back to their senses, now glaring at the Ring with fiery hatred in their eyes. One of the dwarves yelped, and Boromir backed into his seat, wearing an expression of shock and fear.

Elrond gazed furiously at Gandalf. "Never before has any voice dared to utter words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" Gandalf boomed, leaning on his gnarled staff. The Wizard returned to his seat, his clear blue eyes smoldering. "The Ring is altogether evil!"

"But it is a gift!" Boromir argued, rising again. "A gift from the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has Gondor kept the forces of the Black Land at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy; let us use it against him!" Philip stared incredulously at his friend, stunned at his words. This wasn't like Boromir at all; never was the Captain of the White Tower so arrogant or forceful.

"You cannot wield it," Aragorn rebuked, shaking his head. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone; it has no other master!" Boromir opened his mouth to argue, but Hope spoke up, cutting him off.

"The Ring brings nothing but wrath and ruin upon the one who attempts to wield it," she added. "It cannot help Gondor." Both Aragorn and Chase gazed at her, mildly surprised by her sudden input.

Boromir glared at the two Rangers. "And what would you know of such matters?"

"They know more than you believe," Chase retorted, his blue eyes flashing angrily as he defended his friends.

Hope shook her head, laying a hand on his arm. "_Sedho, Chase_," she gently commanded, and Chase, albeit reluctantly, obeyed. Boromir, sensing that his proposition was out of consideration, returned to his seat, continuing to glower at the two Rangers.

Philip gently nudged his friend. "Calm down," he hissed. Boromir sighed, averting his gaze from the pair and relaxing.

"Aragorn and Hope are right," Gandalf conceded, addressing the entire Council once more. "We cannot use it."

Elrond nodded gravely. "We have but one choice. The Ring must be destroyed. In the fires of Mount Doom was it forged, and only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast into the fiery chasm from whence it came." The Elf-lord paused, gazing solemnly around all assembled. "One of you must do this."

Silence descended upon the Council at Elrond's proclamation. Boromir passed a hand across his face, shaking his head incredulously. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas cried, springing from his seat. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" Gimli shouted, gazing fiercely at the Elf.

"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir questioned, standing up to face the Elf. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

More shouts and cries filled the air as more people rose from their seats, debating fiercely over the fate of the Ring. Fern rubbed her hand across her face as she watched the Elves around her argue with the Dwarves and Men. Philip and Hunter had both jumped into the fray, defending their respective countries and the race of Men in general. Chase leapt from his seat as well, doing his best to get the others to see reason and stop wasting time. Hope just exchanged an exasperated look with Aragorn, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly, a quiet yet strong voice rang out over the din. "I will take it!" All eyes turned to Frodo, gazing at the small hobbit in surprise and disbelief. "Though," he continued quietly, "I do not know the way."

A sad look passed over Gandalf's face, but it was soon replaced with one of resolve. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," the Wizard announced. "So long as it is yours to bear."

Swiftly, Aragorn rose from his seat, kneeling before the hobbit. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will," he pledged, placing his hand over his heart. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," Legolas declared, joining the Ranger and the Istar by Frodo's side.

Not one to be outdone by an Elf, Gimli stepped forward, a fierce grin on his face. "And my axe!"

Hope and Chase then stood, smiling faintly at the hobbit. "You are very brave, Frodo Baggins," Hope stated, her gray eyes grim with the knowledge of what challenges Frodo would face throughout his journey. She glanced over at Chase, who nodded determinedly. "We would be honored to accompany you on your quest until fate deems us part."

Philip pushed his way through the mass of people still standing, Hunter close behind him. "I may not be the bravest or the strongest of those who travel with you," he began. "But I swear I will do all I can to protect you and your company."

"And so do I," Hunter proclaimed, taking her place in the company.

Fern sighed at the sight of four of the Elenmîr standing in what was meant to be a company of only nine. With a shake of her head, she made her decision, rising to her feet. "I shall accompany you as well, Frodo Baggins, in the hope that nothing goes astray."

Boromir gazed at the group assembled around the hobbit. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then I wish to help see it done," he pronounced. The Captain of Gondor paused before Frodo, gazing solemnly down at the halfling. "You carry the fate of us all, little one."

Elrond examined the eleven gathered before him, but before he could say anything, a cry burst forth from the bushes, and Samwise Gamgee sprung onto the terrace, running to Frodo's side. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" the stout hobbit declared, crossing his arms across his chest.

"No indeed," Elrond stated, turning to him with a smile. "It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Sam gazed down at the floor, blushing and muttering something about what a pickle he's gotten himself in. Suddenly, two more hobbits rushed to the growing company.

"Oi! We're coming too!" Merry shouted.

"You'd have to send us home tied in a sack to stop us!" Pippin added, standing stubbornly beside Frodo. "And besides, there must be someone with intelligence in the party."  
>"Well, that rules you out, Pip," Merry remarked quietly.<p>

Once again, Elrond surveyed the group. "Fourteen companions," the Elf-lord mused. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

"Great!" Pippin exclaimed, beaming brightly. "Where're we going?"

_**Elvish Translations**_

_**mellon nin = my friend**_

_**Sedho, Chase = Quiet, Chase**_

**So I went pretty much by the movie for the Council because the book version was just too darn long!**

**Also, did you all see the Elenmîr's temptations? Well, most will be elaborated on in the next chapter. At least, I hope they will be.**

**Anyhow, please review!**


	21. The Final Days of Peace

**Hey, everyone! Are you all paying attention? Good.**

**Why do I ask? Well, this chapter, though it seems like a filler, is actually VERY IMPORTANT! I won't tell you why just yet, but pay attention to what is said in this chapter. **

**Well, this one is also kind of on the short side, but like I said, it is important. So enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Fern, Philip, Hope, Hunter, and Chase.**

Chapter 21: The Final Days of Peace

"Fern?"

"Yes, Hope?"

Hope turned to the elleth beside her as the two strolled through the halls of Rivendell. "Why did you join the Fellowship?" she asked quietly. "I do not recall you ever wishing for adventure when I visited you in Mirkwood."

Fern sighed, staring out at the gardens. "I am only accompanying the Fellowship to ensure that all goes according to the books," she answered simply.

"Ah. That would explain your remark at the Council."

Fern nodded, silence consuming the pair. The winter sun shone high in the sky, puffy white clouds dotting the wide blue expanse above the valley. The halls were still, most either walking in the gardens or practicing in the training grounds. Hope's gray eyes roved across the corridor, finally resting on a tall marble statue of a man dressed in armor. Long hair curled down his back, his stone face gazing calmly down at the plate in his hands. A cloth was draped over the dish, and Hope could see the glittering pieces of a shattered sword resting upon it.

"The shards of Narsil," she whispered, approaching the statue and gazing at the broken sword with reverence. Fern, however, kept back, confusion evident on her face.

"Aragorn did not take the sword with him?" she asked, worry evident in her voice.

Hope shook her head, turning back to face her. "Aragorn does not wish to be King. Taking the sword is a symbol of him accepting the Kingship."

"But he must take it!" Fern exclaimed. "It is his destiny to become King!"

Hope clenched her fists in frustration. "Do you think I have not told him?" she said. "Numerous times I have said it, and yet he always refuses. He turned away from that path long ago."

Fern passed a hand over her face, grumbling angrily. Without another word, the elleth strode swiftly away, presumably to find Aragorn. Hope just sighed, closing her eyes sadly. Fern would not fare any better than she at persuading the elder Ranger to take up the mantle of Kingship.

"What shall happen now?" she muttered to herself. "Without a King to lead, all shall fall apart. And I do not believe I have the strength or the bravery to endure through what I know will come."

~o*o*o*o~

"Come now, Philip! I have seen you do better!"

Philip glared at Boromir from his position on the ground, wiping the sweat from his face. The noon sun beat down upon the training grounds. Dust swirled in the air from the many duels the pair had fought, clouding the air around them. "You have bested me seven times already! Must you beat me again?"

Boromir chuckled, sheathing his sword. "I only wish to help you prepare for the quest ahead," he replied, grasping Philip's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"We shall be walking, not fighting every second of the way," Philip grumbled as he reached down to pick up his sword, knowing that his statement was mostly true. Of course, there were a few exceptions…

Boromir shrugged. "That may be true, but still, you should keep training."

"I know." Philip leaned tiredly against a wall, gazing up at his older companion. "I suppose a hero never stops, does he?"

"A hero?" Boromir questioned, raising his eyebrows.

Philip nodded. "I wish to be one someday. Like the ones that are in legend who lead an army to glorious victory in battle. I do not wish to be just an ordinary soldier fighting in a war; I want to be a legend."

"Then you have quite a way to go," said Boromir, grinning down at his friend.

"HEY!"

~o*o*o*o~

"Whoa! Easy, boy!"

Hunter reached out her hands, attempting to calm down the anxious stallion. Windstorm snorted and tossed his head, but eventually, he relaxed, allowing her to gently lay a hand upon his neck. "I know you do not enjoy being cooped up in here," she whispered. "You want to ride again, do you not?" Windstorm whinnied softly, rubbing his nose against her head like he always did when showing affection. Hunter giggled as his big lips tickled her ear. "Hey, hey!"

Softly, Hunter rubbed Windstorm's mane. "Do you remember our home?" she asked. "That big green field of grass, rippling in the summer wind? You and I would always go out riding during those days; no school, no worries." A wistful sigh escaped her lips. "Those were the times before we were thrown into this mess. Before Middle-Earth, before I learned of my heritage." Hunter shook her head sadly. "I would do almost anything to go back to those times." Seeming to sense her unhappiness, Windstorm gently nudged her head, snuffling her golden hair.

"He is a magnificent horse," a voice remarked. Hunter turned to see Hope standing in the stables, leaning casually against a pole.

"I know he is," Hunter replied, continuing to pet the gray stallion's neck. "I surely will miss him."

Hope strode to her side, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You needn't worry for him. He will be well cared for here."

"But he does not belong here," said Hunter, staring back up at the stallion. "He is no Elvish steed. Though he may be fed and ridden here in Rivendell, Windstorm will never be truly happy. This is not his home."

"So you are letting him go?"

Hunter nodded. "He was always a wild one. I know that he, more than anything, wishes to be free." She sighed, gazing down at the floor. "And though my heart aches to do this, I want him to be happy."

A small smile tugged at Hope's lips, her eyes flickering between Windstorm and Hunter. "I see now the connection between a horse and his rider," she stated. "It runs deeper than perhaps any friendship could."

Windstorm neighed in seeming agreement, nuzzling the Ranger's dark hair. Hunter laughed, grinning at Hope. "I believe he likes you!"

Hope chuckled in reply, reaching up to lay her hand upon Windstorm's neck. "Well, I am truly honored."

~o*o*o*o~

The tapestry hung in the Hall of Fire, disturbed by none. Five stars of varied colors shone in the center, surrounded by five figures. Though they differed in race, they all had strong, proud features, valor shining in their faces. Chase's eyes, however, were focused solely on the figure lowest on the tapestry: a tall, lithe Elf with dark hair and deep blue eyes that matched his own. Erynion seemed to gaze down at his descendant, his lips set in a thin line.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed in the empty hall. Hope silently sat down on the bench beside Chase, following his gaze to the tapestry. The orange light of the fire danced upon her face, glinting in her eyes.

Chase glanced at the Ranger. "Are you nervous?"

Hope sighed, nodding. "Indeed," she answered. "Tomorrow we leave on the quest. You know well of the dangers we shall face."

A pensive expression came upon Chase's face. "Perhaps not all is set in stone. Our purpose is to help defend Middle-Earth in its time of greatest need. Does that not mean we can change the course of fate?"

Hope chuckled softly. "Fern would have your head if you tried."

A comfortable silence settled upon the two, both gazing wordlessly at the beautiful cloth before them. The five stars seemed to sparkle in the firelight, the orange glow flickering across the pale faces of the five figures. Eventually, Hope spoke, rising to her feet.

"It is strange, seeing your ancestors regarded as legends," she said. "They surely must have been brave to undertake such a daunting task."

Chase too stood, turning to face the Ranger. "Many times have I heard Elladan and Elrohir speak of Erynion," he stated. "They say he was a fierce warrior and a find friend." The ellon sighed. "He did so much, yet I have done so little. I want to live up to his legacy; make him proud of what his descendant has done."

Hope gently laid a hand upon his shoulder. "You will live up to Erynion's legacy, Chase," she reassured him.

"How do you know?" he asked.

A faint smile appeared on Hope's face. "I know you."

~o*o*o*o~

December 25.

It was a really ironic date for Hunter. Most children wouldn't be doing what she was doing today. Most back on Earth would be waking up early, rushing to open the piles of presents beneath the sparkly, decorated tree. Most would be having a wonderful breakfast with their families, spending time playing in the snow or drinking hot chocolate around a warm hearth. They certainly wouldn't be leaving on a dangerous quest to save an entire world.

Nope; this was completely out-of-the-ordinary.

Hunter gazed at herself in the mirror. She was dressed in the same red tunic and brown breeches she had worn when fleeing from Rohan, her black leather riding boots pulled snug upon her feet. A dark green cloak was draped over her shoulders, and a small pack was strapped to her side. Swiftly, she belted the short sword Ėowyn had given her so long ago around her waist. A smile flickered across her face at the memory, but it soon disappeared. Her face set in a grim expression, Hunter silently strode out of her room, never once looking back.

Quickly she came to the courtyard where the Fellowship was to meet. Hope already stood there with Aragorn, clad in her old travel-worn clothes. Legolas was also there, quietly talking with Chase and Fern. All were dressed in the light leather rainment of the Elves, quivers filled with arrows strapped to their backs. Gimli and Gandalf stood off to the side, silently observing the others. Philip and Boromir soon joined them, and Philip, despite the gravity of the situation, was grinning broadly (for no apparent reason whatsoever). And then, one by one, the hobbits filed into the courtyard; first Merry and Pippin, then Frodo, and finally Sam, who was leading a stocky pony laden with supplies.

All fourteen of the Fellowship assembled together as Elrond stepped forward, a company of Elves behind him. Hunter recognized a few: Glorfindel, the golden-haired Balrog-slayer who had also helped train her, Erestor, one of Elrond's advisors and a good friend, and Lindir, another Elf who had welcomed her in Imladris. Hunter could see Hope and Chase gazing solemnly at the Elladan and Elrohir, the twins wearing identical grave expressions. Arwen stood beside her brothers, her eyes meeting Aragorn's.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest to Mount Doom," Lord Elrond proclaimed. "Upon you who travel with him, no oath or bond is laid to go further than you will." The Elf-lord gazed somberly at those before him. "Farewell. Hold to your purpose, and may the blessing of Elves, Men, and all Free-folk go with you."

Ragged clouds hurried across the cold, grey, winter sky as the Fellowship of the Ring departed Rivendell. Gandalf led them south out of the city, out of the safety and comfort of the valley, and into the dangers and wild unknown. The Elenmír were solemn, scattered throughout the group, completely silent.

They thought they knew what the future held. They thought they were certain of the troubles they would encounter, the battles they would fight, the tragedies they would endure.

They were wrong.

**So, did you pay attention? :)**

**I really like writing Boromir when he's with Philip. It's the happier side of him that you only get to see when he's with Faramir. In the movie, he was always so serious because of the Ring. Hopefully Philip will help him lighten up a little bit. ;)**

**Anyways, I am SO excited for what's coming up next! We're finally going to be getting to the major battles and such. There is so much I have planned for the rest of the story; I can't wait to write it!**

**Please review!**


	22. The Ring Goes South

**Yay! Another update!**

**I'm so glad I was able to post this today, though I really should be sleeping. Oh well.**

**As usual, I only own Chase, Hope, Hunter, Philip, and Fern.**

Chapter 22: The Ring Goes South

For many long days and nights, the Fellowship traveled the wilderness, past mountains and ruins, over valleys and hills. The gray December sky soon faded away, replaced by the icy, crisp blue of January. Their journey was slow, all taking great care to hide themselves from unfriendly eyes. Gandalf led the company, Aragorn and Hope taking the rear guard. The rest of the Fellowship walked in file between, seldom speaking.

Two weeks passed since the Fellowship left Rivendell. The company of fourteen was camped on a rocky outcropping, resting from the many days of weary travel. Fern and Legolas kept watch for the camp, standing as still as stone upon a boulder. Gandalf sat beneath a ledge with Gimli, the two discussing which route to take for the rest of their journey. Frodo, Sam, Hunter, and Chase lounged around a small fire, eating and watching Boromir help Merry, and Pippin with their swordplay. Aragorn, Philip, and Hope sat below them, they too watching the lessons.

"One – two - three," Boromir called out, stepping and swinging his sword with each count. Merry, whom he was currently teaching, parried the moves, his short blade clanging against Boromir's larger one.

"Good, Merry," Philip complimented, grinning at him. "Soon you shall be an excellent swordsman…er, hobbit. Swordshobbit."

Hunter chuckled at Philip's remark, shaking her head. Hope, meanwhile, just rolled her eyes, glancing at the young Gondorian before turning her attention back to the lesson. "Move your feet," she instructed. "Use your size to your advantage."

A sudden mischievous light appeared in Merry's eyes, and quickly, he leaned over to his cousin, whispering into Pippin's ear. Pippin nodded in agreement, smiling broadly.

"FOR THE SHIRE!"

Without warning, the two hobbits launched themselves at their mentor, ducking beneath his arms and tackling him around the waist. Boromir let out a surprised cry as he fell upon the ground, but soon he was grinning, mock-wrestling with Merry and Pippin. Philip roared with laughter, jumping into the fray without hesitation.

"That's not exactly what I meant," Hope giggled, standing up. "Okay, I believe that's enou-OOF!" Her sentence was just short as Merry seized her leg and pulled, throwing her backwards. Within moments, the hobbit was also on top of her, and despite herself, Hope too was laughing madly. She could hear Aragorn chuckling from his seat, and Chase's ringing laughter echoed from atop the ledge, accompanied by Hunter's softer giggles. The sound was welcome in their ears, a bright joyous noise not often heard in these dark times.

"What's that?"

Sam's curious question cut through the air, and immediately, everyone turned their eyes to what the hobbit was pointing at. A dark patch had appeared in the south, moving quickly across the blue expanse of sky.

"Nothing," Gimli reassured the hobbit, his voice gruff. "It's just a wisp of cloud."

"It does not look like a mere cloud," said Hunter, rising to her feet.

The playful scuffle now forgotten, Boromir stood, gazing intently at the dark patch. "It is moving fast…and against the wind."

Chase focused his eyes upon the object, and before long, he could easily see what was approaching. A flock of black birds, flying at great speeds, were hurtling towards them, whirling and circling as if searching for something.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas cried, leaping down from the rock.

"Hide!" Aragorn barked, rushing to get the others to cover. "Hurry!"

Immediately, panic erupted in the camp. Philip hurriedly helped Aragorn and Boromir gather their weapons and bags, hiding underneath a large outcropping with the two Men. Fern curled into a small hole, soon joined by Merry and Pippin. Hunter focused on leading Bill behind a boulder large enough to hide the baggage pony, and Chase and Hope slipped into a thin crack between two boulders.

The Crebain swept over the camp, cawing madly. They were much larger than any mundane crow, their beady black eyes glittering with malice. They circled the rocks for a moment, the flapping of their wings filling the air.

Finally, the Crebain flew away, slowly but steadily disappearing back into the southern sky. Hope let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and emerged from her hiding spot beside Chase. The others too had come out of hiding, all gazing at Gandalf.

"Spies," the grey Wizard announced, his face grim. "We can no longer take this road; it is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras!"

The Fellowship followed Gandalf's gaze towards the towering mountain capped with snow. It loomed above them, menacing and ominous. Hunter visibly paled upon seeing it. She had forgotten about this part.

And she had a feeling it would _not_ be pleasant.

~o*o*o*o~

It was during times like these when Fern was grateful for being an Elf. For three days the company had traveled up the grim flacks of Caradhras. A bitter wind swirled about them, blowing bits of ice and snow into their red, weather-beaten faces. But, being an Elf, she did not feel the cold, nor did she have to dig through the drifts of snow piling up around them. Unfortunately, this did make her the target of several snowballs from Hunter.

"Sweet Eru, would you stop already!" Fern cried as she dodged yet another snowball. "'Tis not my fault that I am an Elf!"

Hunter huffed irritably, gazing at the half-formed snowball in her hands. With a shrug, she chucked at Philip, hitting him square in the back. A broad grin spread across her face as the young Gondorian yelped, whirling around to glare at her. Her smile, however, disappeared as she saw Philip bend down and swiftly form another snowball before hurling it right at her. This soon escalated into a full-on battle between the two, icy white projectiles flying through the air as they chased each other across the ridge.

Eventually, the two collapsed, their cheeks flushed red with mirth. "You have a good arm," Philip panted, grinning like an idiot.

Hunter laughed. "Thank you, Philip. You are not that bad yourself."

~o*o*o*o~

All the cheer of the snowball fight had left them the next day as they were faced with a monstrous blizzard. The wind howled around them, tearing ferociously at their garments. Bits of ice flew into their eyes, sharper than any would have thought possible. The snowstorm wearied them immensely that even Boromir and Aragorn found it hard to continue. The hobbits were nearly bent over, lagging behind the rest. Fern was doing her best to keep the four halflings together with the group, jumping down from the top of the snow to help them keep warm. Chase had leapt down as well, swatting at the snow and aiding Hope and Aragorn's attempts to push through the walls of ice piled around them. Hunter and Philip huddled together, both shivering and wet.

The company halted suddenly as an unseen presence filled the air. The wind filled with shrill cries and howls of laughter laced with malice. Great rumblings thundered from overhead, and boulders came crashing down upon them, unmerciful and deadly.

"We cannot go further!" Boromir cried. "There is a fell voice in the air, and I cannot help but feel that these rocks were meant for us!"

"Caradhras was called the Cruel, and it has an ill name," said Gimli. "Long has it beaten many travelers off its slopes."

"Then let us turn back!" Chase shouted. He turned to see the hobbits clustered together, Merry and Frodo seeming to fall asleep on their feet. "This shall be the death of the halflings!"

Gandalf sighed. "It is no good going back while the storm holds. We shall stay here, as we have passed no place that offered more shelter than this cliff wall."

Hunter shook her head tiredly. "If this is shelter, then a shack is a palace."

Philip chuckled dryly at Hunter's remark, but he was much too weary to do much else. Without a word, the two flopped onto the cold, wet rock, curling up against the cliff face. They were soon joined by the rest of the Fellowship, nearly all soaking wet, shivering, and just downright miserable.

Fern gazed around at the others as they rested, a sense of overwhelming pity welling up inside her. She felt so helpless, unable to do much for the company but make sure all went accordingly. And even then, she felt that she was failing. Dispiritedly, she poked at the damp, sorry excuse for a fire, unsure of what to do.

Soon, the pale grey light of dawn pierced the blizzard, shining drearily down upon the Fellowship. Aragorn rose, peering out into the storm. "The snow has grown less," he said, "and the wind is quieter."

Wearily, Hope gazed out at the white expanse before her. At first, it did not seem like the snowfall had slackened, but slowly, it became more noticeable that the wind had died, and the flakes of snow were becoming fewer. The soft light of the sun crept over the mountains, and soon the storm had stopped altogether.

A dismal sight met their eyes. A shapeless white expanse of snow stretched before them, the path they had forged the previous day now lost. In some places the snow was higher than the hobbits' heads, shoved against the sides of the cliff in great drifts.

Presently, Philip asked the question that plagued everyone's mind. "So, now what?"

"We forge a new path," Aragorn announced. "Come Boromir, Philip, Hope!"

Hope wearily stood beside Philip, and despite her muscles aching in protest, she did not hesitate in joining the other three. Slowly, the foursome set out, plunging deep into the snow. Aragorn was the tallest, leading the way. Boromir followed, furiously thrusting away snow. Philip and Hope struggled the most, the drifts reaching above their heads in some points. Oftentimes a clump of snow would fall atop their heads, showering their hair with white flecks.

Legolas watched the four for a while, a strange light dancing in his eyes. "A ploughman may plough," he said, "but do we not seek the light and warmth of the Sun?" Nimbly, he sprang upon the snow, his light feet hardly making any imprint in the snow.

"Come, Chase!" Legolas cried, beckoning the younger ellon to join him. "We go to find the Sun!"

A smile upon his lips, Chase leapt up to Legolas's side, and as swift as an arrow, the two shot off across the white expanse, chasing the four black dots that were Aragorn, Hope, Boromir, and Philip.

The remainder of the Fellowship sat huddled beneath the cliff, watching silently as their companions dwindled into tiny specks in the distance. Soon, they disappeared, and all they could do was wait.

An hour passed, perhaps longer, and then at last Legolas and Chase reappeared. Aragorn, Boromir, Hope, and Philip followed behind the two Elves, trudging laboriously up the slope.

"The path has been forged," Chase called as he raced towards them, "and the sun waits upon the knees of the mountain." He leapt down from the drift, landing softly upon the ground. At this moment, Aragorn, Boromir, Philip, and Hope came around the bend, joining them. The latter two seemed immensely weary, but ever as always, Philip was grinning.

"Come," said Aragorn, gesturing to the trail. "Boromir and I shall bear the hobbits if need be."

Slowly, the company began hiking down the lane thrust through the snow. Aragorn was again in the lead, closely followed by Legolas and Boromir. Gandalf, Fern, and the hobbits here behind them, the grey wizard and elleth doing their best to shield the four from the occasional clumps of snow that fell from the surrounding drifts. Hope leaned wearily upon Chase's arm as she walked; plowing through the snow had almost completely drained her of energy. Philip was nearly as exhausted, stumbling slightly with every step. Hunter and Gimli brought up the rear, Hunter leading Bill down the narrow path.

Finally, the ground began to flatten, and soon, they reached the end of the path. The snow had lessened greatly, now only a thin layer covering the ground. But hardly had they passed this point that a rolling thunder echoed from the mountain's peak. A sea of snow charged down the slope, swiftly engulfing the Fellowship in its icy depths. Hunter violently struggled against the avalanche, bursting through the snow as the rumbling ceased. Groaning, she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the white powder covering her head. She could see Aragorn and Legolas searching through the snow for the others. Chase had yanked up Hope from the ice, Hope seeming particularly unsettled. Gimli, meanwhile, was shaking his fist at the mountain.

"Enough, enough!" the Dwarf cried. "We are leaving as soon as we may!"

Another rumble sounded from the mountaintop, almost as if Caradhras was laughing at them. But no more did the mountain lash out at them in malice, for it seemed that the sight of them retreating was enough.

The company soon pulled themselves out of the remains of the avalanche, beginning their trek down the mountain. A cold wind pushed them along as they stumbled wearily down the slope. Caradhras had defeated them.

**So, in case you didn't notice, I used movie-verse for the first part, but used book-verse for the second part, where the Fellowship was on Caradhras. I hope I was able to blend them together well.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Please tell me what you think and review!**


	23. Wargs and the West-Gate

**I AM SOOOOOOOO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS SOONER!**

**November has just bee a really busy month for me. I was helping out with my school's drama production, and then I received this massive project from my history teacher as well as a bunch of other homework. And when I didn't have anything to do, I was too exhausted to write anything decent!**

**So, here is chapter 23, finally. I don't own anything other than my OCs, but you all knew that.**

Chapter 23: Wargs and the West-Gate

The graying light of dusk had already appeared on the horizon when the Fellowship finally halted for the night. A chill wind blew about the hilltop where they were camped, nearly extinguishing their small fire more than once. The three Elves stood watch as the others rested, leaning wearily against trees or sitting atop boulders. All of the hobbits save for Frodo had already fallen asleep, Philip snoring contentedly beside them.

_It is a wonder that they can be so peaceful after all that has happened_, Hope thought as she listened quietly to Gandalf, Gimli, Aragorn, and Boromir discuss what route the Fellowship would now take.

"One thing is clear," said Gandalf. "We cannot cross the mountains."

"Let us make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir suggested. "The men there are friendly to my people."

"They may have been friendly when you were last there, but I doubt they are now," Hunter interjected, shaking her head. "The Gap passes too close to Isengard."

"Hunter is right," Aragorn said. "We cannot pass through the Gap of Rohan so long as Frodo travels with us."

Gimli huffed into his pipe. "If we cannot pass over the mountains, let us go under them. Let us go through the Mines of Moria." At the name of Moria, Boromir's face darkened, and Aragorn looked uneasy. Gandalf, however, looked thoughtful, glancing at the other members of the company who were awake.

"Well," the Wizard asked, "what say you?"

Before any could answer, though, a long, low howl echoed through the woods. Aragorn sprang to his feet, hand resting upon his sword hilt. "Wargs!" he cried, his gray eyes darting around the clearing.

"Rouse the others, and build up the fire!" Gandalf called sharply. "It is our only hope against these foul beasts."

Chase shuddered as he notched an arrow upon the string of his bow. The snarls of the Wargs surrounded the clearing, forcefully bringing the memory of that fateful day back to his mind. He could still hear the shouts of his friends as they sprinted down the road, chased by a horde of Warg-riders sent to find him. Silently, he prayed that they were alive and whole; he would die before one of his friends was harmed by one of those monsters.

Quickly, he glanced over at Fern. The young elleth was shaking as she readied her bow, her green eyes wide with fear. Chase shook his head. She never should have come on this quest. Fern was no warrior; she was not meant to fight in these battles to come.

Without warning, wild howls broke loose all around their camp. Monstrous grey shapes leapt over the surrounding boulders, snarling ferociously as they charged at the Fellowship. The twang of bowstrings sang out into the night as Legolas and Chase shot down Wargs with unmatchable precision. The younger ellon could see that Fern had retreated to where the hobbits stood in a circle, her bow standing out among their short swords. Philip and Hope stood back-to-back, hewing at the oncoming Wargs with their blades. Gimli's loud war cry could be heard as he ran at the terrible beasts, Hunter and her stout blade quickly following. Aragorn and Boromir's swords flashed in the firelight as they swung at the Wargs. And in the very center of the camp, Gandalf stood, his sword and staff raised high above his head as he fought with growing fervor.

As he reached yet again for his quiver, Chase could feel his supply of arrows thinning. Swiftly, he unsheathed his sword, and from the corner of his eye, he could see that Legolas had also drawn his blades. The noise of battle crashed around them, and Chase quickly lost track of his companions. All his surroundings seemed to blur together in some sort of violent mass, his instinct driving him instead of conscious thought.

Suddenly, Gandalf's voice thundered out from the din, strong and powerful like the raging storm. A brilliant white radiance shot from his carven staff like lightning, igniting the tall pine before him on fire. The flame leapt from treetop to treetop, incinerating all that it touched. The Wargs fled in the light of the fire, yowling and snarling angrily as they ran.

Chase blinked several times as the light subsided, reducing to the merrily crackling campfire that had been there before. Only then did he finally see what had become of his companions. Fern and the hobbits were all unharmed; all of them still gaping at Gandalf's unbridled display of power. Legolas too had come out of the battle unscathed and was assisting Aragorn in the tending of a few large scratches on his side. Boromir and Philip both had received a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing too serious, and the two of them had joined Gimli and Hunter in their examination of the Warg corpses that lay on the hilltop. Hope sat atop one of the boulders as she bandaged her shoulder.

"Here, let me help," Chase said, walking over to sit by her.

Hope grinned gratefully as he helped tie the black cloth bandage around her shoulder. "Thank you."

Chase nodded in acknowledgement, gazing at the numerous Warg corpses scattered around the blackened hilltop. "I hate Wargs," he grumbled, shaking his head.

Hope chuckled softly. "I can fully agree with you on that sentiment," she replied wearily. She then turned her attention to Gandalf, who was beginning to clear the camp.

"We must continue on, before the Wargs return," he stated, glancing around at the Fellowship.

"But what road shall we take?" Aragorn questioned.

Gandalf paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Let the Ringbearer decide," he finally said, and as soon as the Wizard had spoken, all eyes had turned to Frodo.

The hobbit's eyes darted from one member of the Fellowship to the next, until at last he said, "We shall go through the Mines."

~o*o*o*o~

That morning, the Fellowship set out for the West-Gate of Moria. Gimli had begun to walk at the front of the company with Gandalf, so excited was he to visit the realm of his cousin, Balin. Fern, meanwhile, had fallen to the back of the group, beckoning the other Elenmír to her.

"Do not dare mention anything about what happens in Moria," she hissed once Hope, Chase, Philip, and Hunter had come over. "Absolutely _nothing_."

"Of course, Fern," Philip said. "Did you honestly think we would go on and tell them about the-?"

"Shhh!" Fern glared at him. "I want you to say nothing at all, not even something so small as the password."

Chase cocked an eyebrow. "Really, Fern? Something so trivial as that?"

"Yes!"

"Philip? Fern? Hope?" Boromir's voice called to them from a ways ahead. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, we're fine!" Philip shouted back before turning to the others. "Come, we should go before they start to worry."

The Elenmír rejoined with the rest of the Fellowship as they waited at the base of two magnificent old holly trees. The trees were alike in all aspects, from the aged bark to the lush dark green leaves.

"What are these trees here for, Gandalf?" Hunter questioned.

"They were planted to repel evil from these lands as a symbol of the two trees of Valinor," the Wizard answered. "Celebrimbor of Hollin planted them, while the friendship of the Elves and the Dwarwes still thrived."

"It was not the fault of the Elves that the relationship failed," Legolas said curtly.

Gimli huffed. "I heard it was not the fault of the Dwarves."

Hope rolled her eyes, and Aragorn rubbed his temples tiredly. Gandalf, sensing that another argument between the two was brewing, shook his. "Come now, we shall have much ground to cover once we enter the Mines, and I believe that I am correct in my suspicion that some of our party would not like to spend more time in Moria than necessary." Indeed, even as Gandalf spoke, Legolas's face clouded over, and Chase squeezed his eyes shut.

The Fellowship pressed on, soon walking along a smooth cliff. Night had fallen, a mass of dark clouds blocking out the silvery light of the stars and the moon. A still pool of murky water stretched out before the cliff, gnarled, twisted trees surrounding the lake.

Gimli was rambling to the others about Moria, an eager, excited grin upon his fight. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," he said. "You would not be able to find them if you did not know where to look."

"That would account for why, more often than not, their owners forgot where they were," Legolas mutter dryly, eliciting a cold glare from the offended Dwarf.

Gandalf suddenly paused in front of a section of gray rock, gently feeling the stone with his hand and his staff. "Ah," he murmured. "They are here." As he spoke, the cloud covering the moon rolled away, allowing the pale light to spill down to the cliff. Slowly, a door materialized in the stone, a large arch outlined in silver with the branches of two trees spiraling around the sides and elegantly written Elvish script at the top.

A small smile of satisfaction appeared on Gandalf's face. "It is as I thought," he said. "Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

"What does it say?" Philip asked, staring curiously up at the Elvish script.

"'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria,'" Gandalf read. "'Speak friend, and enter.'"

"And what does that mean?" Merry questioned.

"Well, it's quite simple," Gandalf answered. "If you are a friend, speak the password and enter." He glanced over at Chase, who was pointedly looking away from the doors and looking as if he was trying his hardest not to speak. Gandalf ignored the ellon's strange behavior for now, promising to ponder it further later. Closing his eyes in concentration, the Wizard pressed his palm against the doors, chanting in Sindarin, to no avail. Again he tried, but still, nothing happened.

The Fellowship eventually grew weary of watching Gandalf attempt to open the doors and began resting along the cliff, all either smoking, whispering, or just generally being bored. Hunter stood beside Sam, the young hobbit lovingly stroking Bill the pony's nose. She was faintly reminded of her and Windstorm as she watched Bill snuffling Sam's face, snorting softly.

Aragorn came over to the pair of them, gently removing Bill's bridle and the supplies piled upon his back. "The Mines are no place for a pony," he murmured. "Even one so brave as Bill."

"Bye-bye Bill," Sam whispered, lightly kissing Bill's nose.

Hunter smiled softly at the stocky pony, petting his velvety nose for the final time. "Farewell, Bill." Aragorn then gently began urging Bill down the path, and soon the bay pony was trotting back the way they had come.

Philip, meanwhile, was sitting beside Merry and Pippin on the water's edge, gazing uninterestedly at the still lake. Nothing had happened for the past hour or so, and the trio was nearly bored out of the skulls. Merry was absentmindedly bouncing a smooth pebble in his palm, something which caught both Philip and Pippin's interests. Experimentally, Pippin grabbed a small rock from the ground and lobbed it into the water. Philip quickly followed suit, trying his hardest to make his stone skip across the lake and failing miserably. Merry soon joined, and the three continued tossing pebbles into the lake until Aragorn caught Pippin's hand in mid-throw.

"Do not disturb the water," he hissed, glaring at them. Grumbling slightly, Philip dropped the stone he was about to throw, boredom sinking into his mind once more.

More time passed, the only noise being Gandalf's incomprehensible murmurings in numerous languages in increasingly desperate attempts to open the doors. Eventually, the Wizard sat down upon a boulder, hurling his staff aside in frustration. "Oh, it's no use," he muttered, staring angrily at the still firmly shut doors.

Frodo, who had been staring at the Elvish script for quite some time, suddenly stood, whirling around to face Gandalf. "It's a riddle! Gandalf, what's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon," Gandalf answered tiredly. And then, with a deep rumbling, the doors opened. Immediately, the Fellowship sprang to their feet, gathering their supplies and preparing to enter the Mines.

The darkness seemed to press in on them as they strode forward into Moria. Dust swirled in the air as they walked, a musty smell permeating the air. Gimli, however, was not bothered by any of this. "Soon, my friends, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves," he said. "This is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!"

Philip was only half-listening to Gimli, too busy trying to peer through the darkness to see his surroundings. When his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he nearly yelped in disgust. Rotted corpses lay scattered on the ground and thrown against the walls, black arrows piercing the bodies of the fallen dwarves. Chase swore in Sindarin at the sight, and Hope cringed in horror. Hunter had unconsciously grabbed Philip's shoulder, and was now gripping it so tightly that Philip wouldn't be surprised if he lost all feeling in his arm soon. Legolas, seemingly unfazed, strode to one of the corpses and yanked out an arrow. He examined it quickly before hurling it aside like a poisonous snake.

"Goblins!"

Several things happened at that moment. Gimli sank to his knees, moaning in grief. Aragorn, Boromir, Hope, and Philip unsheathed their swords, and Chase, Fern, and Legolas notched arrows on their bows. And one green tentacle, having gone unnoticed by the company, coiled itself around Frodo's ankle and wrenched him out of the Mines.

"SAM!" Frodo cried as the tentacle dragged him towards the water. Without hesitation, Sam leapt forward with a shout, his short sword raised high. Suddenly, a multitude of tentacles sprang from the water, lashing out at the Fellowship. Frodo was hauled into the air, and Sam was thrown back as one tentacle struck him across the front. Aragorn, Boromir, Philip, and Hope charged into the water, slashing at the swinging green limbs, while Chase, Legolas, and Fern fired arrows at what seemed to be the head of the creature.

Finally, with a great cry, Aragorn cleaved through the tentacle holding Frodo. Boromir lunged forward to catch him, dodging the thrashing limbs of the beast.

"Into the Mines!" Gandalf bellowed, beckoning them with his staff. The rest of the Fellowship obeyed without hesitation, charging out of the water and through the open gate. Legolas and Chase paused at the entrance, turning back to the creature and firing one last arrow.

"LEGOLAS! CHASE!" Boromir roared. "RUN!"

The fourteen members of the Fellowship sprinted deep into the Mines, not daring to look back. A great thundering noise was heard, followed by the sound of crushing rock. The company whirled around to see the entrance completely destroyed, nothing left of the West-Gate other than a pile of massive boulders. A sudden light flared from Gandalf's staff, illuminating the Wizard's grim face.

"We have now but one choice," he said. "We must face the long, dark of Moria. Be one your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the worlds."

**Well, I hope you enjoyed it. The story hopefully should begin picking up speed as me continue along, and I can't wait for what comes next!**

**Please review!**


	24. Drums in the Deep

**Okay, so to make up for the recent lack of updates and the irregular updates, I give you this extra-long chapter! I wanted to jam all of Moria into one chapter, and so here it is. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own only Philip, Hope, Hunter, Fern, and Chase.**

Chapter 24: Drums in the Deep

Philip felt miserable.

His clothes were still soaked from the Watcher incident, and the darkness of the Mines seemed to press in on him from all sides. The caverns were eerily quiet, the only noise being the sound of the company's echoing footfalls. Gandalf led the fourteen of them, the small crystal atop his staff providing minimal light. Aragorn and Chase had lit a few iron braziers they had found on the walls, the dim flames causing the shadows to dance and flicker strangely.

Hunter glanced over at him, noticing that he was not wearing his usual trademark smile. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

"Fine, I suppose," he replied. "I just hate this place."

Hunter nodded in understanding. "I think we all do," she said. "The air here…it feels malevolent." She sighed. "And I can't help but feeling…"

"…that something is following us," Philip finished. A sudden light appeared in his eyes. "Hey, at least we are faring better than some of the Elves." Indeed, for Legolas looked distinctly uncomfortable in the darkness and Chase was gripping his torch so firmly his knuckles were whitening. Chase, who had heard the comment, turned to glare at the duo briefly before continuing on.

Hunter chuckled softly, a small grin on her face at his change of mood. "Now there is the Philip we all know and…well, know."

"Hey!" Philip feigned hurt, pouting slightly at Hunter's remark. But Hunter could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he was back to his usual self again.

~o*o*o*o~

The Fellowship soon came to a narrow ledge along a cliff, below which stretched a seemingly endless pit. Ladders and chains were strewn about in the chasm, and the walls of the cavern glittered in the soft light of Gandalf's staff.

"What is it?" Philip asked as Gandalf gently touched the sparkling sliver embedded in the walls. "Gold? Silver?"

"Some may call it silver of a sort," answered the Wizard. "It is mithril, the source of Moria's wealth. Lighter than a feather and stronger than a dragon's hide, mithril is of a most incredible value." Gandalf continued to walk along the wall, the Fellowship in a line behind him. "Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings Thorin gave him."

"A corslet of Moria silver!" Gimli exclaimed, his eyes wide and his bushy eyebrows almost disappearing beneath his helmet. "That was a kingly gift!"

"Indeed it was, Master Dwarf," Gandalf replied. "I never told him this, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire and everything in it. I wonder what became of it. It's probably now just gathering dust in Michael Delving's mathom house."

The Fellowship continued on, clambering up a massive gray stone stair. It was relatively easy for most of the party, but some of the steps were much too big for the hobbits. Fern gave a little yelp as Pippin slipped, nearly falling on her.

"Sorry," he muttered, struggling to climb back up.

"It is fine," Fern replied, helping the hobbit up the next few steps. She had taken quite a liking to the hobbits, surprised to see so much of herself in them. They were all very naïve, having only read about adventures and the like in books. None knew what it would be like traveling through the wilderness or fighting monstrous beasts. The others of the company had experience with this, but they honestly had no clue as to what they were getting themselves into.

Finally, they reached the top of the stairs. A pile of giant boulders was piled haphazardly in the center of was could be called the underground version of a courtyard. Ahead of them were three large stone archways, each identical to the others. Gandalf abruptly stopped, gazing at the three doorways with his eyebrows furrowed together in thought. When he finally turned back to face the company, his face was grim.

"I have no memory of this place."

~o*o*o*o~

"Merry."

"What, Pippin?"

"I'm hungry."

The hobbits' whispered conversation carried throughout the cavern as the Fellowship waited. Hunter and Fern had both fallen asleep, leaning against the side of a rock. Sam and Philip sat beside Merry and Pippin, listening to the two young hobbits' aimless conversation. Frodo had left some time ago to talk to Gandalf about something, the Wizard sitting on the largest boulder and puffing pensively on his pipe. The others were silent, their eyes flickering around the dank cavern.

Eventually, Boromir rose, striding over to sit beside Hope. The young Ranger cocked an eyebrow, surprised that the Gondorian had approached her. Boromir had mostly kept to himself in Moria, a dour expression ever-present on his face.

"We should not have come here," he muttered softly. "Something foul lurks in the shadows."

"I know," Hope replied. "We all can feel it." She glanced at him. "Though I do not think you came here just to say that."

Boromir chuckled. "No, I did not." The smile disappeared from his face. "I had….heard in Rivendell that Aragorn was the heir to the throne of Gondor." His voice held much doubt in its tone, as if he couldn't believe that the ragged Ranger was meant to be king.

Hope sighed – she had expected this to come up sooner or later. "Yes, it is true," she said, answering his unspoken question. "But he does not want to reclaim the throne, if that is what you are concerned about."

The Gondorian huffed. "Gondor needs no king," he grumbled. "Long have we stood under the rule of a Steward, and we shall not fail now."

"Do not be so sure of the abilities of others. Time can change much in a person." _Just look at the five of us_, Hope added mentally, glancing around at the other Elenmîr.

Boromir opened his mouth to retort, but he was interrupted as Gandalf suddenly leapt to his feet, gesturing with his staff towards the left passage. "It's that way!" he called out.

"He's remembered!" said Merry.

"No," Gandalf replied, placing his powder blue hat atop his head. "But the air does not smell so foul down there. When in doubt, young Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

The thirteen other members of the Fellowship followed Gandalf down the passage. Eventually, they emerged into a vast cavern. The light atop the Wizard's staff flared, illuminating a sight none there could believe. Wide columns as thick as tree trunks stretched upwards, no doubt reaching the ceiling that they could not see. Intricate swirls were carven into the stone pillars. "Behold!" Gandalf cried. "The great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf!"

Philip let out a low whistle. "That's impressive."

"Dwarf-work, laddie," said Gimli, a small grin on his face.

The company pressed on, unable to keep themselves from gazing around in awe. Suddenly, Gimli let out a distressed cry, sprinting to a doorway just ahead of their path. "Gimli!" Gandalf called, but the Dwarf paid no heed. Swiftly, the Fellowship ran after him, entering the chamber. Skeletons were strewn about the floor, littered with dust and cobwebs. A lone shaft of sunlight spilled into the room, falling onto the white marble tomb in the center of the chamber. Gimli was on his knees before the tomb, crying and moaning with grief.

Gandalf stepped forward, reading the runes inscribed upon the tomb. "'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.'" The Wizard sighed. "He is dead then. It is as I feared."

Hunter had gone to Gimli's side, putting a comforting hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. Gandalf, meanwhile, had seized a large, dusty tome from beneath the arms of a skeleton. The pages were thick and yellow, some falling out of the book. Giving his hat and staff to Pippin, the Wizard began to read aloud. "_We cannot get out…We cannot get out…They have taken the bridge and the Second Hall…The Watcher in the Water took Óin…The end comes near…We hear drums…drums in the deep…They are coming_."

_CLANG!_

All present jumped at the sudden noise, glaring around the room. Eventually, their eyes landed on Pippin standing sheepishly beside a well. Slowly, the skeleton perched on the side of the well tumbled in, following the bucket that had preceded it.

Gandalf's eyes flashed with anger. "Fool of a Took!" he snapped, wrenching his hat and staff from the frightened hobbit's grasp. "Next time, throw yourself in so we may be rid of your stupidity!"

Legolas's eyes flickered around the chamber. "We cannot linger here," he said. "We must move on!"

_DOOM. DOOM._

Everyone stiffened, laying their hands on their weapons. "Drums," Fern breathed, her eyes wide with fear. "Drums in the deep…"

"Frodo!" Sam suddenly cried, gesturing wildly at Frodo's sheath. Frodo drew Sting, only to see its blade glowing blue.

"Orcs!" Chase hissed, casting aside his torch.

"Barricade the doors!" Boromir yelled, rushing to the doors they had entered through. Philip began to rush towards the other set of doors on the eastern side, but he was soon stopped by Gandalf.

"No!" the Wizard bellowed. "We do not want to trap ourselves in here! Leave the eastern gate open!"

Hope and Aragorn joined Boromir at the front doors, slamming them shut and tossing axes and swords against the wood. However, this was not before Boromir was able to get a quick glimpse at the oncoming foes.

"They have a cave troll," he muttered dryly, wedging a long spear across the heavy doors.

The rolling of the drums steadily grew louder and faster, ghastly shrieks now accompanying their thunder. Gandalf cast aside his hat and unsheathed Glamdring, the Elven blade gleaming with an icy blue light. Chase swiftly notched an arrow on his bow, mirroring Legolas. Gimli had leapt onto Balin's tomb, clenching his axe and baring his teeth. Philip readied his shield for the imminent charge, his sword drawn. Hunter's stout blade flashed in the shaft of sunlight.

"Get back!" Aragorn called to the hobbits, all of whom had huddled together, their blades drawn. "Stay close to Gandalf and Fern!"

Fern was quite surprised that Aragorn had entrusted the safety of the hobbits to her, but nevertheless she drew an arrow, waiting to fire. Aragorn and Hope had also readied their bows, standing in the front of the company alongside Legolas and Chase. The great wooden doors began to tremble and shake, the drums and the shrieks growing ever-louder. Black pikes and spear-heads pierced through the wood. Legolas and Chase fired through the gaps in the doors, and two shrill shrieks of pain could be heard from the other side. Aragorn and Hope also loosed their arrows, but neither could be sure if they hit their mark, for it was at that moment that, with a thunderous boom, the doors crashed down, and a horde of orcs flooded the chamber.

Fern could not tell if what she yelled was a battlecry or a terrified scream. Her bow sung out as she ran forward with the hobbits, following Gandalf's lead. The elleth could hear Aragorn, Boromir, Philip, and Hope's shouts as they charged into the battle, their swords slashing through the masses of orcs. Hunter was nearby, her short blade making surprisingly quick work of a goblin. The Elvish arrows of Legolas and Chase soared through the air.

Suddenly, the very ground began to quake, and a monstrous creature, its hide pale yellow tinged with blue, charged through the doorway. In one hand it held a colossal stone club, and its beady black eyes flickered hungrily around the room. An iron collar was around its neck, from which a long chain swung.

"Cave troll?" Philip asked as he stabbed a goblin through the chest.

"Cave troll," Boromir replied, swiping off the head of another orc.

The troll reared up, its club raised high above its head. Chase, Fern, and Legolas all fired arrows into its exposed chest, but the troll was completely unfazed. Philip then leapt at it and swung his sword with all his strength at its side; but the sword rang and glanced aside. Not a mark was left on the troll's hide. The troll, however, did feel the blow, and with a shuddering roar, swung its arm into the young Gondorian, sending him flying into a wall. Hunter watched as a goblin raised his sword to smite Philip as he lay still on the ground, and without a second thought, she rushed forward, goring the goblin through with her short blade.

"You absolute idiot," she growled, holding out a hand to help him up.

"Thank you," Philip replied, though from his tone Hunter could not tell if he was thanking her for saving his life or for calling him an idiot.

Much like the Warg battle on the hilltop, everything was total and utter chaos. Hope and Chase fought together, the latter now using his thin blade beside Hope's much larger sword. Everything else around them was little more than a blur, though Chase swore he saw Sam begin knocking out orcs with his frying pan and Legolas leap atop the troll's back and fire an arrow into its neck.

Suddenly, a high cry of pain echoed throughout the chamber. All eyes turned to see Frodo pinned against the wall by the troll, a spear jutting out of his side.

The Fellowship's cries of rage shook the air. The strength of their attacks was tripled, and the orcs fell swiftly before them. Pippin and Merry were clinging onto the troll's back, stabbing it mercilessly with their daggers. Chase and Legolas fired two arrows into its throat, and the cave troll fell, unmoving.

Everyone's eyes lingered on the troll's dead body for a moment before rushing to Frodo's side. Aragorn reached the hobbit first, gently turning him over and removing the spear. "No," he breathed.

And then, to everyone's surprise, Frodo groaned. He coughed a bit as he eased himself into a sitting position. "I'm alright," he said, gazing up at the shocked faces of the Fellowship. "I'm not hurt."

"Frodo, there has never been a time when I was more delighted to hear you speak," said Gandalf. "I feared it was a brave but dead hobbit Aragorn held."

"Indeed," said Aragorn. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar!"

"Well, it seems that hobbits have tougher hides than wild boars," said Hope with a slight grin, "or perhaps something more."

Slowly, Frodo unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a glittering shirt of silver mail beneath. Gimli gasped in wonder.

"Mithril!" the Dwarf cried. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!"

The company's relief that Frodo was still alive soon disappeared as a tumult of shrieks and drums came their way. Gandalf's face swiftly became grim.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm!"

The Fellowship immediately complied, plunging through the eastern doorway and down the stair that lay beyond. They emerged into yet another hall, the screeches of the orcs not far behind. Like a mass of spiders, orcs poured down from the cracks in the ceiling, scampering down the pillars to completely surround the Fellowship. The company stood back to back in a small ring, holding their weapons out shakily. The goblins snarled and jeered at them, brandishing their black blades and baring their teeth.

A low, guttural growl suddenly echoed through the hall. The orcs again shrieked, but this time, it was out of fear and not malice. A malevolent, fiery glow came from the entrance the Fellowship had passed through, causing the orcs to scatter.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked, turning to Gandalf.

The Wizard leaned on his staff wearily, closing his eyes for a moment. "A Balrog," he muttered darkly. "A demon of the ancient world." Gandalf whirled around, fear and dread evident on his face. "This foe is beyond any of you. RUN!"

Without hesitation, the Fellowship began sprinting towards the end of the hall as fast as they could, none but Gandalf daring to look behind them. Boromir charged through the archway first and down the flight of stairs, only to come to an abrupt halt. Rocks crumbled beneath his feet into a deep abyss below him as he teetered on the edge of the broken stair. Legolas and Chase seized his shoulders and pulled him back before the Gondorian could fall into the chasm. The roar of the Balrog rumbled behind them, drowning out Gandalf's voice as he shouted instructions to Aragorn.

The company continued to race down the stone steps through the cavern, the walls seemingly glowing orange with flame. Ahead of them was a crumbling gap in the stair, over which Legolas nimbly leapt over. Chase swiftly followed, the two ellons beckoning the others to join.

"Gandalf!" they called. The Wizard, gripping his staff tightly, jumped, Fern, Philip, and Hunter right behind him.

Boromir seized Merry and Pippin around the waist and sprang over the gap after his companions just as the steps they were standing on fell away.

Hope gritted her teeth nervously as she looked at the widening gap. Suddenly, the sound of orc cries and arrows reached her ears, and she looked up to see goblins in the crevices above them, raining their black arrows down upon the company. Legolas, Fern, and Chase all returned fire, the Elvish arrows finding their marks.

With a loud grunt, Aragorn tossed Sam over the large gap. The Ranger turned to Gimli, only to have the Dwarf shake his head. "Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" he cried, proceeding to leap over the gap. He nearly missed, and he would have fallen into the chasm below if it had not been for Legolas seizing hold of his long auburn beard.

"Not the beard!" Gimli bellowed as the ellon hauled him onto the other side of the stairs.

"Better your beard than you life, Gimli!" Philip hollered back.

The stair holding Frodo, Aragorn, and Hope trembled, and the three were forced to jump back as the stone beneath them crumbled away, nearly sending Aragorn down into the abyss. Hope seized the elder Ranger's hand and hauled him up, staring terrified at the now too wide gap between them and the rest of the Fellowship. The stair shook again as the Balrog roared, and a huge boulder smashed through the steps behind them, trapping the three on the doomed piece of stairs.

The stairs began to wobble precariously. "Lean forward!" Aragorn bellowed, holding his arms out so neither Frodo or Hope would fall. Hope felt her breathing quicken as the stairs lurched forward, falling ever so slowly towards the others. Closer…closer…closer…

"JUMP! NOW!"

The three sprang forward. Fern caught Frodo as Legolas hauled Aragorn upright and Chase caught Hope. The Fellowship, now complete, sped onwards as the stair they were on crumbled into the darkness below,

The company raced into a wide hall, ahead over which was a narrow bridge. "OVER THE BRIDGE!" Gandalf bellowed. "FLY!"

Flames licked the cavern walls as Gandalf urged the Fellowship onto the bridge of Khazad-Dûm. The heat of the fire was upon their backs, pushing them onwards. One by one, the Fellowship crossed the narrow stone bridge, waiting at the end for Gandalf. The Wizard was last to cross, but he stopped midway, whirling around as the Balrog materialized before them.

It was at this moment that Fern realized that reading about monsters was not quite as frightening as seeing them. She had read this section of the book over a hundred tinmes, yet never had she felt so blatantly terrified. The Balrog was a massive beast, its skin black as ash, two horns curling from its head. Dark smoke seemed to surround it, forming two monstrous black wings on its back. Its eyes burned with fiery red light, and in its hand it held a long crackling whip of flame.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf bellowed, his staff in one hand and Glamdring flashing in the other.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried, but Fern held him back. The elleth was determinedly looking at the ground, knowing exactly what would happen next.

She was not the only one who knew, for with a loud cry, Chase sprang forward. The ellon was stopped, however, by Hope firmly seizing his arm. "Hope!" he began, about to snap at her, but he stopped when he saw the pained look upon her face.

"There is nothing we can do, Chase!" she cried, her voice breaking with suppressed tears. "Nothing!" Chase could tell, though, that she, just like him, wanted to do nothing more than run onto the bridge and yank Gandalf away Even though he was almost certain that the Wizard would return, he could not bear the pain and the guilt of seeing the Fellowship mourn around him.

Gandalf was chanting, a radiant white glow gathering at the top of his staff. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he bellowed, and with all of his strength, he slammed his staff upon the stone.

The rock broke right at the Balrog's feet, and the hideous beast tumbled into the darkness below. But even as it fell, its whip cracked through the air, lashing around Gandalf's knees. The Wizard staggered and fell, grasping vainly at a crack in the stone. "Fly you fools!" he gasped, and then he was gone.

Words could not describe the grief of the Fellowship, just as how words could not describe the terror of the Balrog. A cold hand seized Hunter's heart as she finally recalled this chapter in the book. Philip and Chase were breathing rapidly, trying to hold back the tears and failing miserably. Fern winced as she ran, listening to the grieving cries of the others. Tears streamed down Frodo's face as Boromir dragged him towards the exit, calling for Aragorn and Hope. The two Rangers stood frozen on the edge of the chasm, stunned. A weight had settled in Hope's stomach, the weight of grief, hopelessness, and most of all, shame. Finally, she jolted out of her shock and grabbed Aragorn's arm, urging him out of the mines.

The bright sunlight met their eyes, almost too bright and cheerful. The Fellowship, minus one, crumpled down with grief, crying, yelling, or just merely staring into the air, shocked to the core. The air was filled with the sound of many tears being shed, as the company mourned the loss of their companion and leader. And deep in the earth, the drum beats faded, heralding the end of Gandalf the Grey.

**Please review!**


	25. The Golden Wood

**I hate this chapter so much.**

**I cannot describe how much I hate this chapter.**

**THIS chapter just had to catch me during the time I was working until one in the morning for four days straight, which pretty much shut down my muse. Combine that with stressing over dreaded Biology tests and finishing a History project, and then you have a very awful obstacle called Writer's Block, the bane of authors everywhere.**

**ON ANOTHER NOTE, I finally saw **_**The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey!**_** AWESOME! I loved it, and I cannot wait for the next one!**

**HOWEVER, enough with my whining and ranting. Here's the long-awaited chapter 25!**

**Disclaimer: I own only my OC's, who I don't feel like naming right now.**

Chapter 25: The Golden Wood

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn suddenly called, sheathing his sword with a sharp ring.

Boromir glared disbelievingly at the Ranger. "Give them a moment for pity's sake!"

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs," Aragorn retorted. "We must not linger here. Come now, get them up."

Reluctantly, Legolas and Aragorn began to lift the other members of the Fellowship to their feet. Chase slowly stood up from his seat beside Hope, reaching a hand down to her.

"Come on," he said gently. Hope grasped his arm and hauled herself to her feet, hurriedly wiping her tears dry on her sleeve. It did not take long for Legolas and Aragorn to rouse the others, seeing as most understood the peril they could be in if they tarried.

"Pardon me, laddie," asked Gimli gruffly as the company readied themselves, "but where exactly are we going?"

Aragorn answered swiftly. "We travel to the woods of Lothlórien."

Chase could not help the faint smile that flickered across his face. No matter where he traveled, Lothlórien would always be his first home in Middle-Earth. He could never forget how the woods looked the first time he had seen them, the golden leaves of the mellyrn trees seeming to glow in the moonlight and their silver branches stretching towards the heavens.

And glad was he to see the woods again. Sunset was nearly upon them when they finally crossed the Nimrodel. The tall mellyrn trees towered above them, their leaves spiraling to the ground in a graceful dance. The hobbits seemed to shrink beside them, huddling warily together beside Fern. Boromir's eyes darted about, his hand straying ever closer to his sword. Gimli's grip was tight on his axe. The others, though, were calm, the wind rustling through the wood bringing peace to them.

Legolas gazed in wonder at the trees. "Long have I wished to see the woods of Lothlórien," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"They are indeed a fair sight," said Chase. "It is a pity that it is winter, and we shall not see the mellyrn in spring."

"A pity?" Gimli snorted under his breath. "I say that it is good fortune that we do not stay longer in these woods than we need." He turned around, gesturing to the hobbits. "Stay close. They say an Elf-witch lives in these woods; a sorceress of terrible power. Few who look upon her ever come out, and those that do rarely escape unscathed."

"I do not think 'unscathed' is the right word," said Fern, fingering her pendant. "'Unchanged' would seem a better fit."

Gimli continued on as if he had not heard her. "Well, this is one Dwarf she will not snare easily," he proclaimed rather loudly. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox." The Dwarf then abruptly stopped, staring at the arrowhead mere inches away from his face.

"Could you have used those hawk eyes of yours to spot the ring of archers we just walked into?" Philip sniped, earning a few snickers from Hunter.

Haldir stepped forward, the faint traces of a smirk on his face. "Your company breathes so loud we could have shot you in the dark."

"Well, I thank you for not shooting us, then," Chase replied. "That would have been an unfortunate mess."

Haldir paused for a moment before striding over to the younger ellon and clasping his forearm, greeting him in Elvish. Chase returned the greeting, and the two quickly fell into a rapid discussion in Sindarin, Chase often gesturing to the other members of the company for emphasis. Fern, Legolas, Hope, and Aragorn could easily understand the conversation, but the others could only comprehend a few phrases and words, at the most.

It was Gimli who finally expressed this fact out loud. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves," he grumbled. "Speak words we can all understand!"

"Peace, Gimli," said Chase, reverting back to the Common Tongue. "I was merely explaining our situation to Haldir. He and his company have been aware of us since we crossed the Nimrodel a mile back. They are offering to lead us through the wood and give us shelter for tonight."

Haldir nodded briskly and turned to his archers, signaling them to lower their bows. The Fellowship followed him through the quickly darkening forest, finally stopping at a set of trees. Chase could vaguely see grey wood platforms the Elves called talans resting among the branches. With a high whistle, Haldir called up to the Elves resting up in the trees, and three ladders were swiftly let down. The ladders were made of silvery material that glittered in the pale moonlight, and though it seemed delicate, it soon proved to be strong enough to hold many men.

Fern and the hobbits climbed up onto the first talan, while the others divided themselves among the remaining two flets. As she leaned back against one of the thicker boughs, Fern could not help but notice the slightly deadened look in Frodo's eyes. She knew that Gandalf's fall had been especially hard on the Ringbearer, as he had often looked to the Wizard for advice.

"Frodo," she said gently, gazing at him from across the talan. "Gandalf's fall was not in vain, and he would not have you give up hope."

Frodo shook his head. "It was I who chose to go through Moria. If we hadn't gone through—"

"Then we might have lost even more of our company." Fern sighed. "We will never know what could have happened, so do not dwell on it. It was not your fault that Gandalf fall." She settled into her sleeping roll, watching as Merry and Pippin did the same. "You already carry a heavy burden, Frodo; do not carry the weight of fallen as well."

~o*o*o*o~

Philip had not slept so peacefully in a long time. This caused him to be quite cheerful the next morning, though the news of Gollum crawling up onto Frodo's talan did unsettle him a little. Hunter could not believe that he managed to sleep through the commotion the nasty creature had caused and expressed this sentiment aloud, to which Philip replied that he wouldn't let a peaceful night go to waste. This ultimately resulted in the duo bickering throughout the entire journey to Caras Galadhon, much to the chagrin of the Elves nearest to them.

Their argument did come to an abrupt halt, however, as the company crested to top of a large hill. Beneath them stood a section of forest, glowing from within with a radiant golden light. Silent wonder passed over the Fellowship as they continued to walk, eventually entering the wood. Glittering crystals illuminated the paths before them with a soft blue light, and intricately crafted staircases wound around the thick trunks of the numerous mallorn trees.

Haldir led them up one such stair in the heart of Caras Galadhon to reach a wide, silver, leaf-shaped platform. A few yards away from where the Fellowship stood was a smaller, much simpler staircase leading to another platform, upon which stood two figures: Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Both stood tall and regal, clad in softly glowing silver and white. Their expressions were grave as they spoke to the Fellowship, eyes drifting from one member to the next. Most of the Fellowship, however, could never recall what was said aloud on that platform, for as Lord Celeborn addressed the company, Lady Galadriel whispered words in each individual's mind, cryptic messages that left many puzzling over their meaning.

_Home lies behind you, the world lies ahead,_ she whispered to Hunter. _And when your adventure is over, you will have to choose where your home resides._

Philip jumped when Galadriel spoke in his mind. _Heroism comes in many forms, young Philip. You will find your way, though it may not be where you believe it to be._

_Do not fear for what the future holds,_ came the Lady's soft voice in Fern's mind. _All things, good and bad, happen for a reason that none can see. Trust in the others, and your loyalty will guide you through._

_You will find your courage and strength, Hope, _Galadriel's voice murmured, _though perhaps not where you expect them to be. True valor is something few shall ever come by, as is true strength._

_There are choices ahead of you, Chase,_ she whispered to the young ellon. _Some will end in ruin, others in peace. But remember, a price must be paid for every life that is saved._

~o*o*o*o~

That night, the Fellowship was given lodging among the roots of the mallorn trees, it being painfully obvious that many of the company were not comfortable in the treetops. Gimli had promptly grabbed a mass of blankets and pillows, and within minutes, the Dwarf was sound asleep. As the rest unpacked, sorrowful singing began to flow from the treetops. It took Philip a moment to realize that they were singing in Elvish.

"What are they singing?" he asked, glancing at the Elves of their company.

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas answered gravely. "Of what they say, I have not the heart to tell you, for the grief is still too near."

"They probably don't mention his fireworks," Sam muttered. "There should be a verse about them."

"Why don't you write one, then?" Fern suggested, settling down onto a root.

Sam shook his head, glancing at the ground. "Oh, whatever I would say wouldn't do them justice by a long road. I'm no poet."

"On the contrary," said Hope from where she sat with Aragorn, "I distantly recall you reciting a poem you had written back in Trollshaw." She smiled, but Philip noticed that something about her smile seemed forced, as if there was something else covering it. "I may have been half-asleep when you were saying it, but I do remember that it was quite good." (That certain poem is not mentioned in the telling of this story, for it is part of the hobbits' tales and not the Elenmír's.)

Philip chuckled softly as Sam blushed furiously and Merry and Pippin began to pester their friend. The young Gondorian glanced around at the rest of the company and frowned upon seeing Boromir sitting apart from the others, staring at the ground. Quietly, he stood, making his way over to his friend.

"And what, may I ask," he said, taking a seat beside Boromir, "have you found so interesting about the ground? I mean, I know we're in an Elvish forest, but still, there can't be anything seriously different about the dirt."

Boromir jerked his head up in surprise. "Oh, hello Philip," he murmured, lowering his gaze back to the floor.

Philip's frown deepened. "Seriously, no reaction?" He gently nudged Boromir's shoulder. "What is wrong, Boromir?"

"What did she tell you?"

The question caught Philip off guard. "Huh?"

Boromir sighed. "She spoke to you in your head, did she not?" Philip nodded. "What did she say?"

"She…she spoke to me about heroism," Philip answered after a while, "and finding my way." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what she was trying to say, though, and I've given up on trying to figure it out." He turned to Boromir. "What did she say to you?"

The older Gondorian hesitated to answer. When he did, though, Philip was surprised to hear his voice choked with sobs. "She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said that, even now, there is hope left. But I cannot see it."

"I think I do," Philip said, tilting his head in the direction of Aragorn.

Boromir ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing, as is our people's faith. Perhaps…perhaps you are right." He shook his head sadly. "I should not have spoken so harshly of Aragorn. I do not know why I thought that the Rangers of the North would be so very different from the Rangers of Ithilien. If he is anything like those in Faramir's company, then he would make a great captain, and…and perhaps he would bring the hope that Gondor needs."

Philip grinned. "Good to know that you agree with me," he said. "Now, you really need to sleep. Unless, of course, the ground warrants more attention."

Boromir rolled his eyes, lightly shoving him. "Oh, Philip."

~o*o*o*o~

About a month passed, though it did not seem like it. Time seemed to flow differently in the woods of Lothlórien, and an afternoon may have well been a thousand years. The Fellowship was to soon leave the peace and light of the golden woods and venture back into the darkness of the world, and needless to say, much of the company was not too happy about this.

Hope sat in the branches of a shorter mallorn tree, taking her last look at the golden wood. The sun had yet to fully rise over the horizon, and most of the company was still asleep, snoring peacefully on the ground beneath her. She noticed, after closer inspection, that neither Legolas nor Chase was among them.

A sudden rustle sounded in the leaves behind her, and Hope turned to see Chase climbing up to join her. "Where have you been?" she asked softly as the ellon sat down upon a nearby branch.

"Legolas and I went on patrol with Haldir and his company," he informed her. "We were scouting the banks of the River and the path we are supposed to take when we leave."

Hope nodded, scanning the ground below. "Where is Legolas?"

Chase's eyebrows knit together as he too leaned over and surveyed the camp. "We split into three parties. Legolas's must not have returned yet."

"Oh."

Hope leaned back against the tree's thick trunk and watched as Chase continued to gaze about the wood. "A price must be paid," he muttered softly, "for every life that is saved…every life…"

"What was that?" Hope asked, sitting up.

Chase glanced up, surprised that she had heard. "Oh, it was nothing," he replied. "I was just thinking aloud." He turned to face her. "Did Lady Galadriel say anything to you in your mind when we met her up in Caras Galadhon?"

Hope nodded. "Indeed. She spoke to me about courage and strength and that I would find mine one day." She shook her head. "But I do not understand her message. Trust me, I do want to find those things, but I do not know where to look." Hope sighed. "And I fear that I will not find those things in time."

"Lady Galadriel is rarely wrong," Chase said, moving closer to her. "And I agree with her. You will be brave and strong when the time comes." Gently, he laid his hand on hers. "And for those times when you do not feel strong enough, I will be there by your side to help you."

Hope smiled weakly. "Really?"

"I swear on my life I will always be there," Chase stated firmly. "I promise."

**Well, I hope you enjoyed.**

**I can't believe I'm almost done with FotR. Only one more chapter to go! YAY!**

**Please review!**


	26. Chase Away

**Merry Christmas to you all!**

**And now, I present to you: the longest chapter yet in the story! YAY!**

**I really wanted to cram the entire Battle of Amon Hen and the Breaking of the Fellowship in this chapter, and it ended up being more than I expected. However, I am really happy with how this turned out, and I hope you are too.**

**Disclaimer: I only own Chase, Fern, Philip, Hope, and Hunter.**

Chapter 26: Chase Away

Once the entirety of the Fellowship had awoken, the company journeyed to the banks of the Anduin, where Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were waiting for them, along with a host of other Elves. Five elegantly crafted silver boats with broad paddles were docked on the shore, filled with many supplies and, to Legolas's delight, lembas, the legendary waybread of the Elves.

Also, each member of the company was presented with a light Elven cloak of fine make, perfectly fitted to whom it was given. It color seemed to shift with the light, first pale grey, then green, then dusky brown. Each was fastened around the neck with a emerald brooch shaped like a leaf and veined with silver.

"Never before have we clothed strangers in the garb of our own people," said Celeborn as the cloaks were presented. "May they serve you well."

Then, Lady Galadriel approached each member of the company individually, presenting each with a different gift. To Boromir, she gave a beautiful belt of gold, giving similar belts wrought of silver to Merry and Pippin. Aragorn received a curved Elvish knife engraved with runes, and Legolas received a bow of the Galadhrim, strung with Elf hair, and a quiver of arrows. Sam blushed gratefully upon receiving a small, simple box filled with earth from Galadriel's orchard and Elvish rope made of hithlain. Frodo was given the Phial of Galadriel, a crystal that captured the radiant light of Eärendil. Gimli stuttered and blushed profusely when Galadriel came to him, eventually requesting only a hair from the Lady of the Galadhrim's head. Galadriel, smiling, gave him three.

Hope was presented with a fine sword, the hilt shaped like that of an hawk spreading its wings. "This is Laegrist, the Keen Cleaver and sword of Eradan," said Galadriel. "May it continue to serve the line of Eradan and bring victory to its wielder."

With wonder, Hope drew the blade, the steel flashing in the sun. "Thank you, Lady Galadriel," she replied, bowing low.

Galadriel smiled and moved to Chase. "To you I give the bow of Erynion." She handed the ellon a finely crafted bow of light-colored wood, engraved with swirls of the wind and leaves. "It shall not easily miss its mark."

To Hunter, she bequeathed a honey-colored horn tipped with gold. "This is the horn of Fastred," Galadriel stated. "It has no special magic or power, but it is a sure herald for battle and war."

Philip grinned widely as he was given a broad circular shield. It fit snugly onto his arm, and though it was weighty, it did not burden the young Gondorian. "Use the shield of Captain Herion well," said Galadriel. "It has saved the life of the captain many times over, and I hope it shall protect you and others just as well."

"And for you," she said to Fern, "the blades of Feredir. I suspect that when the time comes, you will wield them well." The twin ivory knives were thin and light, and Fern swiftly buckled them around her waist, bowing and thanking the Lady.

Finally, it came time for the Fellowship to depart. The company quickly boarded the boats, their hearts filled with sorrow at leaving Lothlórien. The light of the wood soon faded into distant memory as they paddled down the swift river, each quietly admiring their gifts. It was after some time that Legolas suddenly straightened, nudging Chase and pointing to the shore.

"Do you see it?" he asked. "A group running along the bank?"

Chase squinted, studying the trees. "Yes," he said, nodding. Five shadows were racing through the forest on the bank. They seemed to disappear from view every few moments, before reappearing. "What are they? Orcs?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, they travel in daylight, and are much too swift and silent to be orcs." He shifted his grip on his oar, tipping his head towards Chase's. "Paddle faster; we should be able to lose them on the river."

~o*o*o*o~

For days, they sailed down the river Anduin. Every member of the company was silent, constantly watching the riverbanks and surrounding foliage for danger. Something was in the forest, something large and probably very dangerous. Those who saw it moved their weapons into easier reach, and those who couldn't see it moved their weapons closer nevertheless. The tension and anxiety surrounding the Fellowship was near palpable, and the Ring was slowly taking its toll on all present.

Eventually, the Falls of Rauros came into sight, and before it was a great, bowl-shaped lake. Guarding the lake were too grim stone figures carved into the mountainside. They towered over the Fellowship, silent but threatening. The figures were ornately carved, and the power and might of older times was evident in their grey faces. Upon their heads rested the ancient helm of kings.

"The Argonath," Aragorn whispered, staring up at the figures with the faint traces of a smile on his face. "The Pillars of the Kings. Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old - my kin."

The boats swiftly passed under the shadow of the two stone sentinels, and the company docked on the western shore of the lake. The Fellowship quickly made camp among the boulders and ruins that littered the bank.

"We shall cross the lake at nightfall," said Aragorn, helping Philip pull the last boat from the water. "Then we shall hide the boats and continue on foot."

"Oh yes," said Gimli dryly. "And from there, it is only a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassible labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks, and then…" Here he laughed bitterly. "And then we must pass through festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see!"

"That sounds wonderful, Gimli," said Philip sarcastically. "Please, do tell us more."

Gimli shook his head and turned away, grumbling about rotten bogs and insufferable young Gondorians. Philip just grinned, taking a seat beside Hunter on top of a boulder. Chase, Hope, and Fern, meanwhile, all sat near the fire, a horrible feeling of dread beginning to settle in their stomachs. Eventually, it became too much for Chase to bear, and he began to pace restlessly, much to the confusion of the hobbits.

"Is he alright?" Sam asked Fern quietly.

Fern shrugged. "I believe so. He is just worried, as are the rest of us. I suppose he just shows it differently."

Sam nodded, leaning back against a stone and surveying the camp. Within a few moments, though, he bolted upright. "Where's Frodo?" he asked urgently.

Everyone leapt to their feet, glancing frantically around the camp. Philip's eyes landed on Boromir's abandoned shield. "Boromir is gone too."

A sudden panic fell upon the company. Sam sped off in one direction, Chase in another. Hunter dashed into the woods after Merry and Pippin, and Fern sprinted off as well, following the sound of Sam's voice shouting, _"Frodo! Frodo!"_ Legolas and Gimli darted into the trees. Philip began to run in some random direction, calling at the top of his lungs for his friends. Hope plunged into the wood beside Aragorn, searching desperately for Frodo.

Finally, they came upon him, lying in front of the summit of Amon Hen, a massive throne upon a ruined platform of stone and wrecked battlements. His blue eyes were panicked, and he scrambled away as he saw them approaching.

"Frodo!" Hope cried, stepping towards him.

The hobbit shook his head, clutching his hand to his chest. "Stay back!" he pleaded.

Aragorn's brow creased into a frown. "Frodo, we swore to protect you," he said. "You do not need to fear us."

"The Ring has taken Boromir," said Frodo. He cautiously stopped at the edge of a stair, slowly holding out his palm. "Would you destroy it?"

Hope stared at the simple golden band in Frodo's hand, and suddenly, she was seized with a desire to take it, to have all that strength and power. Her hand tentatively reached out towards the Ring…and then stopped. She steeled herself, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Aragorn do the same. Together, they gently pushed the Ring away, closing Frodo's hand.

"We would have gone with you to the very end," said Aragorn softly. "Into the very fires of Mordor." Hope could only nod, and she could see tears forming in both Aragorn and Frodo's eyes.

"I know," said Frodo. "Please, look after the others."

"We will," promised Hope, blinking back her own tears. Suddenly, a rumbling shook the ground, and loud snarls and growls could be heard in the distance. Aragorn glanced at Frodo's belt, only to see Sting glowing blue in its sheath.

"Orcs!" he hissed, drawing his sword.

"Frodo, go!" Hope shouted, unsheathing Laegrist. "Hurry!"

Frodo nodded, dashing down the stone steps as Aragorn and Hope turned to face a horde of a hundred Uruk-Hai clad in crude plate armor emblazoned with the White Hand of Saruman. The two Rangers gripped the hilts of their swords, their blades flashing in the sun.

And then, with two loud cries, they charged.

~o*o*o*o~

Chase sprinted through the trees, notching an arrow on his bow as he ran. "Boromir!" he called, looking frantically around. "Boromir!"

He finally did find the man leaning against a crumbling stone head. Tears dripped down his nose, and his breathing was uneven. He looked up sharply at the sound of Chases' arrival, but just as quickly looked down.

"Chase, I'm…I'm sorry," he choked out. "I have done something horrible…something unforgivable."

"Boromir," said Chase, stepping closer to the Gondorian, "nothing is unforgivable."

Boromir shook his head. "You don't understand Chase…I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. My father and I…we thought that it could be used to help Gondor, to push back Sauron's forces. But now I see…the Ring cannot be used by anyone other than the Dark Lord himself, even those with good intentions." His body shook with more sobs. "I cannot look any of you in the face again. I have betrayed the quest, and they would be right to send me away."

Chase laid his free hand on Boromir's shoulder. "Boromir, listen to me," he said. "The others will forgive you, as have I, and they certainly will not send you away. You are not the only one who has been tempted by the Ring, and you will not be the last one to fall to its temptation."

Boromir opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off as a high, clear horn call echoed through the forest. "Hunter!" he cried, drawing his sword. "Come, Chase!"

The ellon did not hesitate to follow.

~o*o*o*o~

Hunter raised her horn to her lips again, blowing as hard as she could. Merry and Pippin were right behind her, running as fast as their little hobbit-legs could. The guttural snarls and stomps of the Uruk-Hai were not too far off, and it was clear that they were following.

"What were you guys thinking!" she hollered, helping the two hobbits over a log. "One moment, I'm following you two, the next, you are racing towards me screaming, _'Run!'_ with a horde of monstrous orcs right behind you!"

"Just creating a distraction for Frodo!" Merry shouted back as they continued running. Suddenly, a black mass crested the hill in front of them. The trio made to turn around, but the Uruks had surrounded them on all sides.

"Well," muttered Hunter, "your distraction worked." Quickly, she drew her short sword, and Merry and Pippin did the same. But just as the wave of Uruk-Hai was about to crash down upon them, an Elvish arrow flew from somewhere in the trees, embedding itself in the skull of the leader.

Boromir and Chase dashed out of the woods, charging at the Uruk-Hai. Boromir's broadsword hewed at the Uruks, and Chase's bow was singing. As the ellon came closer enough to Hunter, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Hunter nodded, brandishing her blade. "Yes. Yourself?"

"Just fine," Chase replied, loosing another arrow. He took a quick glance around the clearing. "Where are the others?"

~o*o*o*o~

Sam leaned up against a tree, trying to catch his breath. Fern and Philip were beside him, glancing around the trees and calling for Frodo (both did actually know where Frodo was, but in the tension and stress of the moment, both had forgotten).

"Think, Samwise," Sam muttered to himself. "He's probably gone off East by himself, but he's got no gear for the journey. So he has to go back to the boats!" The hobbit sprang up, gesturing to Fern and Philip. "Back to the boats, hurry!"

The three raced as fast as they could back to camp. There were cries and shouts in the woods surrounding them, but none of them paid any heed. Numerous times did one of them almost trip over the gnarled roots of some giant tree. Finally, they reached the camp, where they saw Frodo standing on the riverbank, staring silently at the eastern shore.

"Mister Frodo, wait!" Sam cried, rushing forward. Philip followed him, as did Fern.

Frodo whirled around, shaking his head. "No, you three!" he said. "Stay with the others! I'm going to Mordor alone!"

"Of course you're going to Mordor," said Sam, "but not alone. I'm going with you!" Frodo opened his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off. "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. _'Don't you leave him Samwise Gamgee!'_ And I don't mean to!"

"Neither do I, Frodo," said Fern. "I will not be able to rest until I know you are safe, and I cannot do that unless I am with you."

Philip nodded firmly. "Frodo, I swore to protect you and your company," he said. "I will not abandon you now."

Frodo studied their faces for a moment. None of them had ever given any indication of wanting to take the Ring, and they had all proved themselves trustworthy and loyal to the company. At last, Frodo sighed. "Of all the confounded nuisances, you three are the worst!" he said, but a smile was on his face. "Hurry now, before the others come."

And so the four quickly scrambled into a boat, sailing across the wide lake and continuing the journey to Mordor.

~o*o*o*o~

Meanwhile, Hope struggled with a particular Uruk that had grabbed her and was persistently trying to drag her away. With a furious grunt, Hope threw all her weight towards a stone column, effectively cracking the Uruk-Hai's skull against it. Swiftly, she ducked out of its loose grip, stabbing it through with her sword.

"Saruman must not have given up on capturing the Elenmír," she muttered, swinging her sword around to strike an Uruk approaching Gimli. Aragorn and Legolas were not far away, both holding their ground well as they fought against the onslaught of Uruk-Hai.

Suddenly a long, deep horn resonated through the air. "The Horn of Gondor!" cried Legolas, turning towards the direction of the sound.

Aragorn immediately began to race down the hill. "Boromir!"

~o*o*o*o~

Chase loosed another arrow as Boromir blew his horn again. His call was shortly followed by one from Hunter's horn, a softer, higher note than that of the Horn of Gondor. He had no doubt that the others would be coming soon; he just hoped that they would come in time. Again he reached for an arrow…

…only to find that his quiver was empty.

Muttering an Elvish curse under his breath, Chase drew his sword, motioning for the hobbits and Hunter to run. "Go!" he cried as an Uruk lunged at him. "Hurry!"

Hunter herded the hobbits into a relatively safe spot in the trees. Her blade flashed as she fended off any Uruk that came too close. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin had begun to throw rather large rocks at the Uruk-Hai, and most did not miss their mark. Chase and Boromir fought back-to-back, hewing at the mass of Uruk-Hai slowly closing in.

That was when Chase saw it. The Uruk captain, a white handprint stamped upon its horrid face, with a cruel black bow in its hand. A great black arrow was upon its string, and the Uruk was aiming it right at Boromir's chest.

Chase froze. What should he do? Should he just stand by and not interfere with destiny's choice, or should he save his friend and companion? Could he live with the guilt of knowing that he let his comrade die, or could he stand knowing that he may have changed the entire fate of Middle-Earth?

The Uruk captain pulled back and released, and in that split second, Chase made his decision.

_I'm sorry Hope_, he thought sadly, _but I'm breaking our promise._

"Boromir, move!"

~o*o*o*o~

Hunter froze as she saw the arrow pierce Chase's shoulder as he pushed Boromir away. Her thoughts rushed back to the day she looked into the Mirror of Galadriel, when she had seen a dark-haired figure with arrows through his chest. She hardly noticed Boromir striking his head upon a rock as he fell to the ground, nor did she notice Merry and Pippin's anguished cries as they charged at the Uruk-Hai.

Suddenly, she felt something seize her roughly around her waist. An outraged cry left her lips as an Uruk hauled her onto its shoulder, dragging her away from the battle. She struggled and fought, but her short blade slipped from her grasp, and then something collided violently with her head.

The last thing she heard was Chase's cry as another arrow pierced his stomach.

~o*o*o*o~

Chase fell to his knees, watching helplessly as the Uruk-Hai retreated, carrying away Merry, Pippin, and an unconscious Hunter. Pain burned through his chest as he moved, his breathing shallow and uneven. A shadow fell on him, and he saw the Uruk captain standing above him, one final arrow draw.

Chase gazed up at the captain, his face emotionless. No matter what happened, he wouldn't regret his decision to save Boromir. Boromir deserved a second chance more than anyone else in the whole wide world, and Chase was glad to give it to him. He knew that Boromir would strive to make things right, and he knew that only good could come from that.

Suddenly, a dark blur charged out of the forest, tackling the captain to the ground. Hope scrambled to her feet, the silver of her blade meeting with the black iron of the Uruk's with a loud clang. Raw fury was etched onto her face as she fought, striking fiercely at the Uruk. The fight only lasted a few moments, but for Hope, it seemed like a lifetime. Finally, she swung her blade high, hewing off the Uruk's head.

The Uruk fell to the ground with a thump, unmoving. Hope gazed down at the corpse for a brief moment, her sword sagging wearily in her hand and her breath shaking. Then, her face clouding with disbelief and concern, she raced over to where Chase lay. Boromir was already beside him, a large bruise on the Gondorian's forehead. He was hurriedly talking to Chase, tears gleaming in his blue-grey eyes.

"…I will, Chase. I swear on my life I will," he said, causing the fallen ellon to smile faintly. Hope did not take time to wonder about his words, though, immediately dropping to her knees beside Chase.

"Oh, please, no," she whispered, wincing as she saw the wounds. Two ghastly black arrows, thicker than any she had seen before, were lodged deep into his stomach and shoulder. Gingerly, she moved her hand to the base of one of the arrows, preparing to wrench it out, but a pained cough stopped her.

"Leave it," Chase gasped out, jerkily swatting her hand away. "They're barbed…shan't come out easily…" Hope bowed her head, unable to speak as tears begin to well in her eyes.

Chase looked up to see Aragorn standing behind the two others, grief clear on his face. "Aragorn...you have to go," Chase said with as much urgency as he could muster. "They took Merry, Pippin…and Hunter…You have to find them…Hurry!"

Hope bit her lip. "Chase, surely there is something we can do for you."

"No, Hope." Chase shook his head. "Just leave me…You must go…before they get too far!"

Boromir sighed and nodded his head. "Thank you, Chase," he whispered, rising to his feet and leaving the clearing. Gimli, whom Chase had not seen standing with Legolas at the edge of the clearing, soon followed, his head bowed.

Aragorn crouched down, clasping Chase's uninjured shoulder. "It has been an honor," he said.

Legolas nodded. "You would have made Erynion proud."

A smile lit up Chase's face at those words.

Hope was the last to leave Chase. Her mouth opened and closed as a million thoughts whirled through her mind, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to say any of them. "I…I shall miss you, Chase," she finally said.

"I'll miss you too," Chase replied softly. He glanced downward. "I'm sorry, Hope."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," said Hope. "I…I suppose I understand." Slowly, she stood and walked away, drying her face on her sleeve.

"Goodbye, Chase."

~o*o*o*o~

At the riverbank, Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli gazed at the western shore, where four figures were scrambling through the woods. "Frodo, Sam, Fern, and Philip have gone on," said Legolas.

"We have brought them as far as we could," said Aragorn. "And now, our path lies elsewhere. Chase asked me to hunt down the orcs, and hunt them I will." He turned to Boromir, who was staring silently at the ground. "And what of you, Boromir? Shall you turn from Gondor from here?"

Boromir glanced briefly over at Hope as she emerged from the woods and shook his head. "No, Aragorn, my path lies with yours."

"As does mine," said Legolas, stepping towards his friend.

Hope looked up at Aragorn. "Mine as well."

"Aye," said Gimli, gripping his axe.

A fierce smile spread across Aragorn's face. "Then let us hunt some orc."

**Okay, so maybe not the best Christmas present for you Chase-fans out there. But you Boromir-fans should be pleased, right?**

**Please don't kill me.**

**If you kill me, you won't be able to see how things get better in the story. Trust me, things WILL get better. You just have to wait.**

**Trust me. :)**


	27. Endless

**I'm really sorry about not updating in a month. But seriously, I've had so much to do, I've been exhausted. Projects, essays, tests, homework, theater practice, and let's not even MENTION finals…**

**But I'm back, and soon it's going to be my first anniversary of joining the site! YAY! Also, it's going to be the first anniversary of my very first fanfiction, **_**Dig Down Deeper**_**. I seriously can't believe it's been that long.**

**Well, here we start **_**The Two Towers**_**. **_**The Two Towers**_** is my favorite movie but my least favorite book, so from here on out, I'll probably be leaning more towards movie-verse, though there definitely will be some book-elements weaved in there. **

**ANYWAYS, hope you enjoy! This chapter isn't all that long, and it's mainly filler. Since I now have three different storylines, I'm going to try and have a bit from each character in each chapter. This means that the pacing of some parts may be slightly awkward, as I'm also trying to upload the sections together according to the timeline.**

**Disclaimer: I only own Hope, Philip, Fern, and Hunter. I also own Chase, but he's…well, you know…**

Chapter 27: Endless

"Rock, rock, and more rock!" Philip moaned. "That's all we have seen for the past two days!"

"I reckon that's all we're going to see for these next few days, Mr. Philip," Sam replied as they crested yet another hill. A thick mist hung upon the gray, stony expanse before them, and the very air around them smelled foul. Far in the distance, an orange light blazed, surrounded by malevolent black clouds.

"Mordor," said Fern, gazing resignedly at the light. "Our destination."

"Figures," muttered Philip. "The one place in Middle-Earth we don't want to be is the one place we're trying to get to."

Frodo smiled faintly at Philip's statement. "Come on, you three," he said, motioning down the hill. "We'd best try and find a new path."

The foursome scrambled down the rocky slope, beginning to look for a trail through the treacherous hills. Philip had to admit that Gimli was right; Emyn Muil _was_ an impassible labyrinth. Every boulder looked exactly the same as the last, and oftentimes steep cliffs would bar their way.

They soon found themselves standing on the edge of deep ravine, peering down into the darkness below. No one could see the bottom of the sheer drop through the heavy fog, but there was no way around. The four were forced to clamber down, scrabbling for footholds on the cliff face and clinging tightly to the silvery Elven rope.

"Can you see the bottom yet, Fern?" Philip called down, gripping tightly onto a small outcropping.

"No," came the reply. "The fog is still too thick, and the darkness is not helping."

"Don't look down!" yelled Frodo's voice. "Just keep climbing!"

Philip glanced at Sam, who was right above him, before cautiously continuing his descent. Suddenly, Sam slipped, and a small wooden box fell from his pack. Yelping, Sam reached for it, as did Philip, but both missed. The box plunged into the fog, and Frodo and Fern's cries could be heard as they both grabbed for it. A triumphant shout rang out, but then the rope shook violently. Two muffled thumps could be heard.

"Frodo!" Sam and Philip cried. "Fern!"

A moment later, Frodo's voice came up out of the fog. "I think we've found the bottom."

Carefully, Philip and Sam clambered down the rock face, sighing in relief as their feet hit solid ground. Fern gently pressed the small box into Sam's palm. "What is it, Sam?" she asked.

Sam gazed down at the box. It was very plain and simple, carved out of dark brown wood. Upon the lid was engraved a faint leaf-like symbol. "It's just a bit of seasoning," he explained. "Thought it might be useful if we have roast chicken or something one night."

Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Roast chicken?"

"Where would we find a chicken out here?" Philip laughed, smiling as Sam blushed.

"You never know, Philip," he replied. "Besides, it really is special – the best salt in all of the Shire. It's a little reminder of home."

Frodo smiled faintly. "Oh, my dear Sam." He then walked to the silvery rope still dangling from the cliff. "We can't leave this here. Someone may follow us."

"They'd have to find this ridge first," Philip muttered, "and that's impossible in this awful maze."

"You never know," said Fern, gazing up the rock face.

"Mr. Frodo, that's one of my knots," said Sam. "It isn't going to come free too easily. It's a shame, really – Lady Galadriel gave me that rope in Lothlórien. Real Elvish rope." Sam gave the rope a wistful tug, and without warning, the rope tumbled down, landing in a very surprised hand.

Philip glanced at the rope now coiled in Sam's hand. "What can I say?" He shrugged. "Real Elvish rope."

The four continued their journey, hiking over the jagged black rocks of Emyn Muil. The fog soon began to lighten, until it was no more than a fine mist. The sun blearily shone down upon them. As they walked, Frodo's breath seemed to grow shallower, until finally he had to stop, sinking down onto a rock.

"Frodo?" Fern asked, sitting beside him. "Is there something wrong?"

"It's the Ring," he murmured, gazing at the ground. "It feels as if it's growing heavier." The hobbit shook his head and turned to Sam. "What food have we got left?"

Sam began to rifle through his pack. "Let me see…Oh yes, lembas bread." He held up a small, leaf-wrapped package. "And look – more lembas bread!"

Carefully, Sam broke a loaf of lembas into fourths and tossed a piece to each of his companions. Philip gazed at the waybread. "Why do I have the feeling that I will hate this soon?" he wondered aloud.

"It's not all that bad, Philip," said Sam. "I don't usually hold with foreign food, but this Elvish stuff is actually quite good."

Fern lightly shoved Philip. "Oh, just eat it."

Their rest did not last long, and soon, they were back on their feet. Sam glanced at a particular outcropping of rock. "That looks strangely familiar," he noted.

Philip rolled his eyes. "It looks just like every other boulder we've passed, Sam."

Fern shook her head. "No, Sam's right," she said. "That does look familiar."

Frodo groaned. "It's because we've been here before. We're going in circles!"

"Oh, that's wonderful," Philip muttered. "Just peachy."

~o*o*o*o~

Hunter woke with a start. A foul stench filled her nose, and her head was throbbing painfully. Something sticky clung to her hair and the side of her face. Her hands were tied securely around the neck of an Uruk, and every few seconds, her body was roughly jostled as the Uruk-Hai ran. Slowly, she began to remember what had happened.

_I really hate Uruk-Hai_, she thought, struggling weakly against her bonds.

"Hunter!" a voice whispered from her right.

Hunter whipped her head around, only to regret as pain tore through her head. "Are you alright?" the voice spoke again, and this time, Hunter recognized the familiar, comforting accent.

"Pippin?" she called, smiling faintly. The concerned eyes of a red-haired hobbit met her gaze. He too was tied onto the back of an Uruk, but unlike her, he did not seem injured. "Pippin, you're alright!" Hunter sighed in relief. She glanced around at the other Uruk-Hai surrounding them. "Where's Merry?"

"He's beside me," Pippin replied.

"How is he?"  
>Pippin glanced worriedly to his right. "He was hit on the head like you, I think," he said. "He was awake just a few minutes ago. The orcs tried to give him 'medicine'."<p>

Hunter winced, but she did not reply. Wearily, she leaned her head against the Uruk's helmet and closed her eyes. A faint vision came in her mind – an image of Aragorn bending over a trail in the grass, with Legolas, Hope, Gimli, and Boromir not far behind; the five of them were running, chasing the Uruk-Hai. Desperately, she tried to recall if Merry and Pippin were rescued in the books, but she couldn't remember.

Suddenly, the horde of Uruk-Hai stopped, glancing warily about the ravine they were in. "What is it?" one asked their leader.

The leader sniffed the air, and then snarled. "Man-flesh," he hissed. "They've picked up our trail! Move, maggots! Run!"

As the Uruk-Hai began to race through the ravine once more, Hunter couldn't help but feel a spark of hope flare in her chest. Help was on its way.

~o*o*o*o~

The noon sun beat down upon the Five Hunters as they ran. Aragorn and Legolas were in the lead, scouting the rolling hills that stretched before them. Not too far behind them were Boromir and Hope, and Gimli, sprinting along on his stout Dwarven legs, was the furthest back. For two days, they had raced across the plains, hardly noticing rocks or thorns in their path. Sometimes it seemed that they were so near to catching the Uruks, but at other times, rescuing Merry, Pippin, and Hunter seemed impossible. Yet they pushed on, stopping only when the moon set and they could not run in the dark.

Aragorn suddenly halted, standing atop a ridge. Swiftly, he dropped to the ground, pressing an ear against a rock. "What is he doing?" asked Boromir, gazing curiously at the Ranger.

"He is listening, I think," Hope replied, panting slightly. "The ground groans beneath the hated feet of orcs, and no doubt, Uruk-Hai. It may be able to tell us where they have traveled."

Boromir nodded before turning his gaze to Hope. "And how do you fare, Hope?" he asked.

Hope raised an eyebrow. "I am fine," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

Boromir muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Hope did not bother to ask about it. Truth was, she wasn't entirely "fine". Her sleep was plagued with nightmares – visions of Chase lying dead in Parth Galen, Chase being struck down by arrows. They had been the best of friends, but Hope didn't realize exactly how close they were until he was gone. But she refused to tell the other members of the company; they already had enough to worry about. And so she crushed her grief deep down inside of her, willing herself to forget.

Aragorn turned to face them. "Their pace has quickened!" he cried. "We must hurry!" And with that, he charged down the slope and out of sight.

"Come Boromir, Gimli, Hope!" Legolas called as he raced ahead. Without a word, Hope followed, with Boromir right behind her. Both could hear Gimli's panting as he struggled up the ridge.

"Dwarves are natural sprinters," he puffed. "We're wasted on cross-country!" Gimli then noticed Boromir and Hope watching him from the top of the ridge. "Well, don't wait for me!"

Hope shook her head and began, once more, to run. Soon, she had caught up with Aragorn and Legolas. Both were standing in a rocky ravine; Aragorn was crouched low on the ground with Legolas staring over his shoulder. Curious, Hope leaned over to see what they were looking at, and what she saw caused her face to brighten for a moment.

"A leaf brooch," she whispered, gazing down at the emerald clasp.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," said Aragorn, nodding.

Boromir caught up with them just then, and when he saw the brooch a smile spread across his face. "They may yet be alive," he said, a hopeful light in his eyes.

The company raced out of the ravine, emerging out into a wide plain. Golden grass waved in the wind, surrounding the gray boulders scattered across the fields. In the distance, mountains rose high above the hills. "Rohan," said Aragorn. "Home of the Horse-lords."

His gaze drifted to far across the plains, where a black blotch could be seen staining the land. "Something gives speed to these foul creatures, sets their wills against us."

Legolas raced ahead, cresting the hill before them. "The Uruks have turned westward!" he cried. "They are taking them to Isengard!"

Boromir paled. "To Saruman?" he asked.

Aragorn nodded. "But we will not let them reach the White Wizard." His voice held a promise, and for a moment, he seemed like a king, determinedly leading his comrades on. But soon, the image faded, and he was no more than a Ranger.

~o*o*o*o~

Hunter did not know how many days had passed. One moment she would be lying on the ground, the next she would be back on an Uruk. Occasionally, she would have whispered conversations with Merry and Pippin, but most were quick, ending with either her or Merry falling back into unconsciousness.

Night had fallen on what Hunter believed was their third day captive. The pale moon shone above them as the Uruk-Hai charged on, but Hunter could feel their pace slowing. Suddenly, she was unceremoniously flung onto the ground, Merry and Pippin shoved down beside her.

"Get a fire going!" one of the orcs screeched. "We're not going anywhere until we've had a rest!"

Hunter glanced around as the orcs began to make camp. They had decided to stop right on the edge of a dark, dense forest. In the fading moonlight, Hunter could see drooping leaves and branches hanging low to the ground. Within moments, the orcs had begun hacking at many of these branches, tossing them into the small fire one of them had started.

Suddenly, a loud groaning echoed from somewhere, and some of the forest began to sway, though there was no wind. "What is it?" Pippin asked, his eyes darting frantically around the camp. "What's making that noise?"

Merry lifted his head up from the ground, gazing curiously at the forest. "It's the trees."

"The trees?" Hunter's brow furrowed in thought. "Oh, yes, I think I remember now…"

Pippin stared at his cousin in disbelief. "You mean…like in the Old Forest?"

Merry nodded, leaning back. "I think we made a mistake in leaving the Shire, Pip," he murmured.

"I wish I never had to leave Rohan," Hunter grumbled, shaking her head. She wondered how Éomer, Éowyn, and Théodred were, if Wormtongue had been banished from Edoras yet. Oh, how she longed to see Meduseld again!

An Uruk's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I'm starving," he growled. "We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!" With a snarl, he threw down the dark, moldy loaf he had been given. "Why can't we have some meat?"

"Yeah!" one of the orcs cried. His dark beady eyes landed on Hunter, Merry, and Pippin. "What about them? They're nice and fresh!"

"And they are NOT for eating," the Uruk captain snarled. "They are prisoners, not food!"

The orc frowned, but not for long. "What about their legs?" he asked, a manic glint in his eyes. "They don't need those!" Hunter quickly tucked her legs in as close to her body as possible. The orc lunged forward, but he was stopped by the Uruk.

"Get back, scum!" the Uruk roared, shoving the orc. "They are to be delivered to Saruman alive and unspoiled!"

"Alive?" the orc sneered. "Why alive? Does Saruman want them for sport?"

"They have something the master wants," the Uruk replied. "So stay BACK!"

The orc growled, suddenly leaping forward. "Just a mouthful! Just a piece of-" His sentence was cut off as the Uruk's sword pierced through the orc's body, spattering dark blood on the grass. The orc fell dead onto the ground.

Cheers rang out from the Uruk-Hai. "Meat's back on the menu, boys!" one cried. The horde charged at the body, grinning hungrily. Their frenzy was interrupted, however, by the thunder of hooves echoing across the plains.

"Riders!" Hunter whispered, smiling hopefully. "Riders of Rohan!"

**Well, hope you liked it.**

**Please review!**


	28. Foul and Fouler

**Well, I feel like a horrible person.**

**TWO MONTHS! Over TWO MONTHS without a single update! I am so very sorry. :(**

**Alright, list of reasons why I haven't updated:**

**1. School. Honestly, I don't get a lot of homework, I just get a lot of very big tests I need to study for. And those are the worst.**

**2. Theater. My high school's putting on a production of **_**Beauty and the Beast**_**, and after school rehearsals PLUS Saturday rehearsals are taking all of my time and energy. ONLY TWO MORE WEEKS UNTIL OPENING NIGHT! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!**

**3. General lack of inspiration. I haven't watched The Lord of the Rings in a long time, and I kinda slipped out of the fandom for a moment. Shocking, I know.**

**Anyways, I forgot to wish this fic a happy 1st birthday (March 3)! WOO! I also forgot to wish Aragorn happy birthday (March 1) and say Happy Fall of Sauron Day (March 25)! So, yeah, I kind of missed a lot of important dates. Oh well.**

**Anyways, I only own my OCs.**

Chapter 28: Foul and Fouler

Fern sat upon a boulder, keeping watch as the others slept beneath the shelter of a cliff. A foul stench filled the air around the camp, no doubt from the bog that was nearby. The stars were blotted out by dark clouds, and the pale moon was slowly sinking. If it were not for her Elven eyes, Fern would have been able to see anything but darkness.

Suddenly, a shadow slinking along the top of the ridge caught her eye. Gently, she nudged Frodo awake. "Look," she said, pointing discreetly to the shadow. "What do you think it is?"

Frodo blinked a few times, adjusting to the darkness. "Gollum," he whispered, a grim look upon his face. "Lay still and act as if you are asleep. If he approaches, we shall catch him."

Fern nodded and leaned back against the rock, closing her eyes. Beside her, she could feel Frodo do the same. For a brief moment, all was quiet save for the snores of their companions, and then, a raspy voice hissed from the rocks above. "The thieves…the thieves…Nasty, filthy hobbitses…they go with boyses and Elveses, fierce Elveses with bright eyes. Ach, we hates them! Curse them!"

The hissing grew closer, and Fern could hear the almost inaudible sound of clammy hands scaling down rock. "Where is it, Precious? Where are they with my Precious? It's ours, and we wants it! WE WANTS IT!"

Fern's eyes snapped open to see a pale hand reaching towards Frodo's neck. With surprising agility (Fern later could never tell how she moved that fast), the elleth seized Gollum's wrist, flinging him to the ground. Gollum, however, recovered much quicker than she expected and leapt at her, pinning her down. His bony fists pounded into her chest, all the while screaming curses at the Elves. Frodo launched at the gangrel creature, knocking him off of Fern.

The racket, of course, had woken the others. With an outraged cry, Sam charged at Gollum. But he found Gollum to be swifter than he had reckoned, and within seconds, Gollum was atop the poor hobbit, his cold, clammy fingers wrapped around his neck. Philip wrapped an arm around Gollum's scrawny form and pulled, but Gollum's grip on Sam was too strong. Finally, with one last furious tug, Philip wrenched Gollum away from Sam, flinging him into the dirt. Frodo was swiftly above Gollum, his sword drawn and aimed at the creature's neck.

"This is Sting," he murmured threateningly. "You've seen it before, haven't you, Gollum?"

It was only now that Fern was able to see fully what Gollum looked like. He was smaller than the hobbits, pale and thin. Stringy pieces of hair clung to his scalp, and his blue, bloodshot eyes were wide with fear. He wore only a single scrap of cloth around its waist.

"Don't hurt us," Gollum whimpered, cowering pitifully on the dirt. "Don't let them hurt us, Precious! _Gollum, gollum!_"

"Well, what shall we do with him?" asked Philip. "I mean, we can't just let him go."

"Tie him up," said Sam, "so he can't come sneaking after us."

Gollum shook his head frantically. "That would kill us! Kill us! Cruel hobbitses, wanting to kill us!"

"It's no more than you deserve," growled Sam.

"We cannot kill him," said Fern. "He has done us no real harm."

"Done us no real harm?" Philip stared incredulously at Fern. "Fern, he tried to kill us in our sleep! If that's not harm enough, I don't know what is."

Frodo was silent, deep in thought. He paid no heed to the sniveling pleas of the creature before him, nor the urgent cries from those behind him. Finally, he spoke. "I will not harm him," he said, "for now that I see him, I do pity him."

Philip's mind wandered back to when Hope recounted the hunt for Gollum several months ago. _She said that she could see similarities between our situation and Gollum's_, he thought_, but I cannot see them. All I see is a wretched creature who deserves no more than death_.

Gollum grinned, displaying rows of pointed yellow teeth. "Yes, precious, nice hobbitses won't kill us!"

"We won't kill you," said Frodo, "but we won't let you go free either." He turned to Sam. "Bring out you rope, Sam. We may have use for it yet."

Glowering, Sam rummaged through his pack, pulling out the silvery coil of rope. "It ought to go around his neck," he muttered, "and in a tight noose too." Sam handed it to Frodo, who gently tied the cord around Gollum's ankle. But as soon as the rope touched Gollum's skin, the wretched creature began to wail, shrieking and screaming like some wild animal.

"Oh, make him stop!" cried Philip, clapping his hands over his ears. "Every orc in Mordor will hear this racket!"

"Cruel rope, it burns us!" whined Gollum. "Nasty Elveses twisted it! Take it off us! We will do whatever you asks of us…We swears!"

At this, Frodo stopped pulling, staring at Gollum with something resembling compassion in his eyes. "I do not trust you," he said. "And there is no oath you can make that would change that."

"We swears…we swears to serve the master of the Precious," whimpered Gollum. "We swears to not touch the Precious, or try to harm nice hobbitses and boyses, and even nasty Elveses…we swears on the Precious!"

"He's trying to trick us!" Sam yelled. "He'll throttle us in his sleep if we let him go!"

Frodo seemed to ignore Sam, regarding Gollum warily for a moment. The creature had stopped struggling and was now staring up at Frodo with hopeful eyes. "The Ring is cruel," Frodo declared, "and it will hold you to your word."

"Yesss…on the Precious!" Gollum nodded his head fiercely. "On the Precious!"

Frodo crouched low, looking straight into Gollum's eyes. "Gollum," he asked, "you know the way to Mordor, correct?"

Gollum nodded. "Yes."

"You've been there before?"

Again, Gollum nodded. "Yes."

Frodo sighed and reached over, untying the knot from around Gollum's ankle. "You will lead us to the Black Gate," he commanded, and Philip was surprised by the sudden severity of the normally gentle hobbit's voice.

Gollum froze for a moment and then grinned. "To the Gate!" he cried, leaping up. "To the Gate, Master says! Yes!"

With a joyful shriek, Gollum bounded off, scampering over the rocks with surprising speed. "Whoa, wait!" Philip cried, racing to gather his stuff and follow Gollum. "Wait for us!"

Gollum peeked up from over a boulder. "Hurry! Hurry!"

Philip shook his head and groaned. "I have a feeling that this won't end well."

~o*o*o*o~

"Blood has been spilt this night."

Both Boromir and Hope turned to stare at Legolas, eyebrows raised. "How do you know?" asked Hope.

"The red sun rises," the Elf explained, gazing towards the east. "It is an old proverb of the Elves and has been found true on many an occasion."

"I do not doubt your words, Legolas," said Boromir, "but I do hope it was only Uruk blood that was shed and not the blood of humans or halfings." Hope merely nodded in agreement.

Further ahead, Aragorn crouched low, examining the turf. Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he motioned for the others to hide behind a large boulder. A low rumbling shook the earth, and Hope could just barely hear the sound of galloping hooves charging across the fields. Like a great wave, a company of horsemen, at least a hundred in number, crested the hill, their helms and spears flashing in the noon sun. Nearly all were clad in silver mail, carrying shields that bore a golden sun and a white horse upon fields of red and green.

Boldly, Aragorn strode out of their hiding spot, leaping atop a boulder. "Hail, Riders of Rohan!" he called. "What news have you?"

"Are you mad?" Boromir hissed, roughly seizing Aragorn's shoulder in a futile attempt to drag the Ranger back behind the boulder. "They will not trust a group of outsiders in a time like this!"

Aragorn did not move. "They are enemies of Saruman and the Uruk-Hai, like us," he replied coolly. "They may be able to aid us on our hunt."

"Or they may spear us through," Gimli muttered, rising up to stand beside them. Legolas and Hope soon joined them, and there the five stood, awaiting the Riders.

With surprising agility, the Riders wheeled around, charging towards the five companions. The horsemen swiftly surrounded them in a tight ring of spears, some no more than an arm's length away. Some of the horsemen had arrows readied on their bows, and many were glaring fiercely down at the Five Hunters. Then one rode forward, built taller and broader than the rest. A golden brown horsetail flowed from his helm, and a thick golden beard covered his chin.

"Who are you, and what business do you have in the lands of Rohan?" the Rider demanded. "Speak quickly!"

Gimli tightened the grip upon the handle of his axe. "Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine."

To the Dwarf's surprise, the rider chuckled. "Ah, but shouldn't the stranger declare himself first?" he said. "Nevertheless, I am Erkenbrand of Westfold."

"The Westfold?" Boromir asked. "But that is far from here. Why are you leading a patrol so far from your station?"

Erkenbrand dismounted, gazing solemnly at the ground. "My company and I are no patrol," he replied. He then gazed up at Boromir. "But who are you, and how are you so knowledgeable about the lands of Rohan?"

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor," Boromir declared, a slightly proud note in his voice.

"Ah," said Erkenbrand. He removed his helm, revealing the long flaxen hair common to those of the Rohirrim. "And, pray tell Boromir, who are your companions?"

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said Aragorn, "and this is Gimli, son of Glóin, Legolas of Mirkwood, and Hope of the North. We are friends of Rohan, and of your king."

Erkenbrand frowned. "You cannot both be a friend of Rohan and of Théoden King. I said before that we are no patrol, are that is because we have been banished for our loyalty to our land. Théoden King no longer knows friend from foe."

"But surely he knows who is the enemy?" Boromir asked.

"I do not believe so," said Erkenbrand. "Rumor has said that the king's mind is poisoned, and it is his advisor Gríma Wormtongue who is in charge now." He shook his head. "But now that I have finished my prattle, tell me: what is your business in these lands?"

"We track a pack of Uruk-Hai westward across the plains," said Legolas. "They have taken three of our companions captive."

Hope nodded. "Two were hobbits, only children in your eyes. The other was a young girl of my age, one of your people."

"We encountered Uruks in the night," said Erkenbrand, "but we did not see any captives."

"Do you know where they might have gone?" Boromir asked earnestly.

"They will not have gone anywhere," Erkenbrand answered, "for they are all dead. I saw none alive after the battle."

The color drained from Boromir's face. "They're…dead? All of them?"

Erkenbrand nodded. "We piled the carcasses and burned them," he said, pointing to a pillar of white smoke in the distance. The Rider's eyes softened as he saw the despair upon their faces. "There is a chance that your companions may have escaped during the battle, however. Though darkness may have overtaken the land, there is hope still." The five numbly nodded, only half-listening.

Erkenbrand mounted his horse before beckoning to the riders behind him. "Hasufel, Arod, Fréowine!" he called. Three horses, one dark-grey, one white, and one chestnut-colored trotted forward. "May these steeds bear you to better fates than their former masters." Erkenbrand fastened his helm about his head. "Search for your friends, and hold fast to hope. We ride north! Farewell!"

The five companions watched silently as the Riders of Rohan galloped away, thundering across the dry plains. After a moment, Aragorn turned towards the others. "Come," he said, swinging up into Hasufel's saddle. "Let us go."

Legolas mounted Arod, helping Gimli into the saddle behind him. The poor Dwarf looked about as comfortable as Samwise Gamgee in a boat. Hope rode together with Boromir astride Fréowine. The horses of Rohan were swift, and within moments, the five found themselves nearing the smoldering pile of carcasses. The stench of death mingled with the smoke in the air. A single Uruk head was rammed onto a pike in the ground, a sign of the Rohirrim's victory and a warning to any other orcs or Uruk-Hai to pass through the land. Aragorn swiftly dismounted Hasufel, gingerly beginning to search through the blackened pile for any sign of their friends. Boromir and Gimli joined his search, but it was Gimli who found the belt.

He would have passed it off as yet another ordinary charred lump of metal were if not for the intricately wrought design still visible despite the ashes, the design that was almost identical to the belt fastened around Boromir's waist.

"It's one of their wee belts," the Dwarf whispered, fat tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Legolas bowed his head, murmuring a hushed prayer in Sindarin. Hope sank to her knees, silently cursing every evil thing she could possibly think of while tears streamed down her face. Boromir let out an anguished cry as he kicked down the pike with the Uruk's head on it.

"This is all my fault," he muttered softly, shaking his head as he began to cry. "I'm sorry…so very sorry…"

Aragorn lashed out at an abandoned Uruk helmet, screaming in rage as he kicked the thing before collapsing onto his knees. Hope gazed dejectedly at the horizon. "We've failed," she whispered. "I failed."

Suddenly, Aragorn straightened. "A hobbit lay here," he murmured, gently brushing the dried grass from the ground. "And the other...Their hands were bound."

Boromir opened his mouth to tell him that there was no point anymore, but Hope shushed him. She quickly stood, running to Aragorn's side. The elder Ranger was now on his feet, following the faintest of tracks in the grass. "They were crawling…" He picked up a ragged piece of rope from the ground. "Their bonds were cut."

Hope, who was only a few feet behind Aragorn, frowned as another set of tracks blurred with the first. "They were followed."

"The tracks lead away from the battle," called Aragorn, running now. Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, and Hope were not far behind him, newfound hope in their eyes. Suddenly, Aragorn stopped, staring deep into a dark, murky forest.

"…and into Fangorn Forest."

**Yeah, so no Hunter this time around. It wouldn't fit.**

**On a completely different note, you all probably noticed Erkenbrand took the place of Éomer in the story. That's because:**

**1. After thinking about it, I realized that I REALLY, REALLY don't like Éomer. (Yeah, PenFreak, I know, can I join your "Éomer is a WEENIE" Club now?)**

**2. …that's actually the only reason I can find. I just really don't like Éomer.**

**So, Erkenbrand is basically my attempt to meld what happened in the books with what happened in the movie while having it all still be logical. I know, it doesn't really make much sense right now, but just trust me on this, okay? I think I know what I'm doing.**

**Anyways, please review!**


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